The Shattered Mosaic
by Juubi-K
Summary: A single choice can change the course of history. So Zero discovers, when Princess Euphemia is assassinated during the opening ceremony of the Special Autonomous Region. Now his plans are in chaos, and the world will take a new and unexpected course. The mosaic is shattered, and he must somehow reassemble it.
1. Chapter 1

**Code Geass: The Shattered Mosaic**

**By Juubi-K**

_A single choice can change the course of history. But no choice stands alone. Our choices form a tapestry, a mosaic that encompasses the whole world. If merely one choice is different, in the right time and place, then the mosaic is shattered._

_In the year 2010 ATB, the Holy Empire of Britannia conquered the nation of Japan; in the hope of seizing its reserves of precious Sakuradite, and using them to fuel a campaign that would conquer the whole world. For seven years Japan languished under Britannian rule, stripped of its name and identity, condemned to live on as Area Eleven._

_But in the year 2017, the world changed. For in that year a young Britannian, Lelouch Lamperouge, vowed to destroy Britannia, and remake the cruel world it symbolized. For he had been born Lelouch vi Britannia, Seventh Prince of the Holy Empire of Britannia, a heritage he willingly abandoned when his mother was murdered, and his father - the 98th Emperor Charles zi Britannia - cast him and his sister Nunnally out. To destroy Britannia, and build a better world for his sister, he accepted the power an immortal girl offered him; the Power of the King, called Geass._

_He became Zero._

_But for all his success, he could not escape his past. For his half-sister, Princess Euphemia li Britannia, sought to bring peace to a tormented world in her own way. To that effect, she began a plan of her own, to establish within Area Eleven a Special Autonomous Zone of Japan; a place in which downtrodden Elevens could live as Japanese, their freedom and identity restored. For Zero this was a disaster; threatening to undo all he had accomplished. He vowed to ruin Euphemia's plan, even at the cost of his own life._

_But it was not his life that would be sacrificed. Nor was it his decision that would set destiny in motion. Regardless, the Mosaic that was his life, his fate, was shattered. And his life would take a new and very different path. For while any fool can destroy, only a few can truly build._

_Whether as Zero, or as Lelouch, he must remake his Shattered Mosaic._

* * *

**Chapter One**

_It is the cause, not the death, that makes the martyr._

_Napoleon Bonaparte_

_**Special Autonomous Region, Area 11, September 2017**_

The stadium was packed to overflowing.

That should have surprised no one. When the announcement had been made, only a few weeks earlier, it had sent shockwaves across Area 11; the small cluster of islands just off the Pacific coast of South-east Asia that had once been known as Japan. Among the downtrodden and despised _Elevens_, as the native people of those islands were now known, it had brought excitement and argument, and something that most of them had not known in nearly eight years.

Hope. Hope that the poverty and suffering they had endured for so many years might finally end. Hope that they might finally be treated as human beings rather than serfs, or mere obstacles to Britannia's ambitions. Hope that in the new _Special Autonomous Region of Japan_, they might finally reclaim something of what was lost.

Kyosuke Tenryo was not one of those who felt hope. Nor did he feel excitement, or joy, or any of the other emotions hovering like a bad smell in the air around him. If he had, he would not be doing what he intended to do.

The seats, enough for well over a hundred thousand people, were by that point all full. Crowds still swarmed into the stadium, passing through the enormous gates sent into the diagonal corners between the stands, watched and marshalled by soldiers of the Holy Empire of Britannia, who since that terrible month of August in 2010 had claimed absolute sovereignty over the islands of Japan. They wore their customary grey fatigues and armour, their faces hidden behind air filters and black, insectile visors.

There was no violence, no unpleasantness beyond raised voices. But there could be no missing the assault rifles in their hands, or slung over their shoulders. The Britannians were taking no chances.

It was all Kyosuke could do to keep a straight face as he followed the crowd into the stadium. He wanted to _scream_, to curse them for their stupidity, their _weakness_. For over seven years he had survived amid the ruins of his once proud and mighty country. He had drunk water from streams or broken pipes, salvaged scrap metal to make a little money, fallen asleep with a growling empty stomach. He had run and hidden as Britannian aircraft passed overhead, or foot patrols passed by. He had kept his head down, never looked them in the eye, never done anything to really draw their attention.

All the while smothering his own heart, crushing down the anger and hatred, the yearning to throw himself at the nearest Britannian and strangle the life out of him, even if all it got him was a bullet. So many times it had seemed the better choice, better than living on in that squalor, hearing children cry with hunger, seeing his own family wither away for want of food, or rotting in their own filth when the cholera passed through.

But he still had his pride, still had his name. He was still _Japanese_! That they would never take from him! That they could not take from him, for being Japanese was not something that could just be taken away.

But it could be thrown away. The Honourary Britannians had thrown it away, when they filled in the form and pledged themselves to the empire that had destroyed their homeland. And for what reward? To be allowed to live and work in the settlements; the beautiful, luxurious cities the Britannians had built for themselves amid the ruins of Japan's own cities. To do the worst jobs, for as little pay as would induce them to turn up, to be spat upon and abused by Britannian masters who would never entirely trust them, for their own children to be born and raised not as Japanese, but as Britannians; their heritage denied them, their souls lost.

He had done it too. It was a fact that haunted him, as he allowed the crowd to carry him along. He too had filled in the form, and collected the ID that sat in his breast pocket, a terrible, mocking weight hanging over his heart. It was necessary, the others had told him, a means to an end; and they were right. With it, he had been able to come and go as he liked, barely even noticed. He had been able to help the others, and get stuff done.

Including building this place, and working here. That _had _to be fate, it just _had _to be.

Because in this mighty stadium, which Japanese labourers on slave pay had struggled and suffered to build, a new age would be announced. A _Special Autonomous Region_ in the shadow of Mount Fuji, a place where the Japanese could be Britannian citizens _and _Japanese, no longer Elevens, no longer _things _to be abused and exploited.

They believed it. The _fools _around him believed it. They believed that ridiculous Princess – that pink-haired Euphemia li Britannia - and her even more ridiculous promises. At the time he had wanted to spit, to scream, to _kill _something.

He wasn't angry. Not any more. The anger had faded, as he saw where the grand opening was to be held, and his destiny was revealed. He had known, in that very moment, what he had to do.

Kyosuke pushed his way through the crowd, emerging just outside the south-west tunnel. With the casual automatism of one who had worked there for years, he strode towards the door set into the wall a few metres along from the tunnel mouth; the one marked STAFF ONLY. He stepped up to the door, and showed his ID to the Britannian soldier guarding it. The soldier checked it, glanced at him, checked it again, and then opened the door without a word. Kyosuke stepped around him and through the door, also without a word.

The corridors and rooms beyond were largely deserted. All staff members were out on duty, helping to marshal the crowds and keep the whole stadium in working order. Following a path so well-worn he could walk it blindfolded, Kyosuke strode into the men's locker room, which was itself deserted. Amid the stink of sweat and deodorant, he changed into his work uniform and locked the locker. There wasn't really much need, but it wouldn't do to act strangely either.

This done, he went to the equipment store and signed out a toolbox, then headed down a long corridor towards a particular door; one behind which stood a staircase leading up to the very top of the stadium, to the galleries where the loudspeakers and floodlights could be accessed for maintenance or replacement. From there, he could carry out his plan.

"Tenryo!"

Kyosuke paused, just before the door, as Mitsuo Sasaki came striding towards him. Sasaki was the last person he wanted to encounter. An infuriating busybody with a penchant for power-tripping, Sasaki might ruin his plan without ever realising.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Sasaki. "You're needed out on the field! Zero showed up and he's talking with the princess! The crowd's getting excited!"

Kyosuke's blood ran cold. Zero? He had come after all? And he was talking with Euphemia? What was going on?

"Shimizu-san asked me to check on the north-west loudspeakers," he forced himself to reply. "17B was acting up again last night, and he wants it checked."

"He said the loudspeakers were all working!" snapped Sasaki, taking the bait.

"They were, Sasaski-san" Kyosuke went on, keeping his tone respectful. "But he asked me to make sure."

Sasaki looked furious, and Kyosuke felt his heart skip a beat. This could all go wrong quite suddenly.

"Do it!" barked Sasaki. "Check the others while you're at it! But don't hang around!"

He stormed off down the corridor. Doubtless he was going to yell at Shimizu, who was – if Kyosuke remembered right – at the other end of the stadium. He would demand to know why Shimizu had not reported problems with the loudspeakers, and Shimizu would swear blind that all was well; as indeed it had been the night before. By the time they stopped yelling at eachother, and realised that something was amiss, it would be too late.

Except he couldn't go on. He couldn't move, or think. Zero? Talking with the princess?

He couldn't believe it. He didn't _want _to believe it, any more than any of his comrades had done. Zero was their leader, their hopes personified. He had scoffed at the Black Knights at first, back when they were just a bunch of show-offs with a leader in a silly costume, but they had achieved more in their first three months than most groups had managed in a year! They were going places, getting things done!

Had the dark mutterings been true? Was he really just some _agent provocateur _sent by one of the superpowers?

Kyosuke shook his head, and stepped through the door. If Zero really was betraying his followers, then it was all the more reason to carry out his mission.

He closed the door behind him, and hurried up the stairs to the maintenance gallery. He could hear the rumble of the crowds as he strode along, his eyes fixed on the north-west corner, where the supposedly-malfunctioning loudspeaker was located.

"Halt!"

Kyosuke's blood ran cold as yet another Britannian soldier strode towards him. Of _course _they would have guards on the maintenance gantry. They weren't _that _stupid, were they?

Kyosuke held still, staying quiet and submissive, while the soldier patted him down and checked his toolbox. Finding nothing, the soldier gestured for him to go on. Kyosuke hurried past, bobbing and bowing for effect, playing up the Britannian stereotype of the diffident, pathetic Eleven. It made him sick to his stomach, but it almost always worked.

He reached the northwest corner. What awaited him was a large room, all but invisible from the field, set right into the reinforced concrete of the outer wall. From there, via ladders reaching into the ceiling and maintenance panels set into the wall, he could reach all the loudspeakers and floodlights in that corner. There was also a window cut into the concrete, giving him a clear view of the field, and the rostrum.

He glanced through. The guests were taking their seats to either side of the red carpet, but no sign of the princess yet. He still had time.

He looked around, and remembered the ladder he had used a week earlier, when he had last checked his stash. He clambered up, and found himself in a dark tunnel leading up to the roof. It was full of electrical equipment; most of which he could never remember the name of, despite his cover story. The roar of the crowd was deafening, overwhelming.

Kyosuke forced himself to stay calm as he looked around, trying to find the panel where he had hidden his stash. Upon seeing it, he put down his toolbox on a convenient ledge and took out a screwdriver.

To his relief, the panel came away just as it had before. He reached around inside, and found the bag he had last checked a week earlier. He pulled it out, dropped it into the toolbox, then climbed back down.

Mercifully, the room was still clear. It would only take him a few moments to get ready, but a soldier could come wandering by at any moment. He took a quick glance along the corridors, and saw no one.

He had minutes at the most.

Kyosuke opened the toolbox, took out the bag, and began carefully laying out the parts inside; the parts he had so carefully smuggled into the stadium through the chaos of construction. Seeing that they were intact, he began to slot them together; as he had done so many times before.

His weapon took shape. A Sazonov SVD-75, one of hundreds or thousands smuggled into Japan by black-market arms dealers for sale to resistance groups and criminal syndicates. It was a weapon he had used many times in service to various resistance groups, and more recently to the Black Knights. He had discovered many years ago that he had a talent for such weapons, for killing at a distance; his greatest contribution to the cause of Japan.

His greatest, and last contribution.

Carefully, willing his pounding heart to slow, he screwed the detached barrel into place, and then the stock. He slid in the clip, and checked the power pack. All working. All ready.

He slid the window pane aside and looked out. The stadium was _packed_, a great ocean of humanity heaving and undulating below him. He could make out soldiers lining the edges of the field, and the much larger shapes of knightmare frames; purple _Gloucester _units with long black capes and enormous lances held like ceremonial halberds. Impressive to look at, but Kyosuke could also see the 20mm assault rifles in their other hands.

If even one of those machines spotted him, they'd be scraping his remains off the walls. But if he had judged the angle right, they wouldn't be able to see him; not from down there anyway.

He focussed his attention on the rostrum, set into the middle of the south stand. Behind it was an ornate square tower, where the most luxurious skyboxes were, and behind which stood the Princess' MCV, on which she had arrived earlier. A tunnel led through the tower and opened onto the rostrum, with a wide red carpet running down the centre. To either side stood a line of high-backed thrones, upon which the most important guests sat. A bunch of Britannian dignitaries, none of whom he recognized except for one.

General Andreas Darlton, the Vicereine's grizzled old mastiff. No sign of his mistress though. Rumour had it that Princess Cornelia wanted nothing to do with her little sister's scheme. Doubtless he had been sent for the look of the thing, or maybe in case of a crisis.

"What're you…!"

Kyosuke almost voided his bowels as he heard the barked command behind him. He spun around, and saw a Britannian soldier down there. The man was still, frozen, as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

On instinct, he levelled the rifle. The soldier brought his up, but Kyosuke was just slightly faster. The bullet struck him in the neck, knocking him backward, his breath gurgling through his respirator. He hit the wall and slid down, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete.

Kyosuke swore. It didn't seem like the crowd had heard; good thing he remembered the silencer. But he had minutes at most before the other soldiers wondered what had become of their now-dead comrade.

He grabbed at the dead soldier's feet, and dragged it inside, out of sight of the corridor. He turned back to the window, praying to Gods he didn't really believe in that Euphemia would appear soon. If not, he was doomed, and this was all for nothing.

And there she was, just appearing from the mouth of the tunnel. Kyosuke blinked in momentary surprise, for despite the gown and hoop skirt she was wearing, she was racing down the red carpet at a dead run. He saw Darlton stand up, looking at her in what looked, through his scope, like mild astonishment.

A strange calm settled over Kyosuke as he flicked off the safety and settled the crosshairs on Euphemia, following her as she came to a halt at the head of the rostrum, right where he had expected her to. For a moment such as this, it seemed curiously anticlimactic, almost peaceful.

As if the world had slowed down.

* * *

The crowds perked up as Princess Euphemia finally appeared.

But their happiness turned to surprise as she hurried down the red carpet, her pink and white gown billowing as she ran; a strange, faraway look on her face. There was no sign of Zero either. Darlton stood up, as if to ask her what was going on. But she ignored him.

"I have a very important request to make!" she called out, coming to a halt in the front-centre of the rostrum. "Will all those who consider themselves Japanese…!"

Then she paused, and swayed backwards, the strange smile fading from her face. Then the mutterings turned to a chorus of gasps as she toppled over backwards, the gasps turning to screams as the pink breast of her gown turned red as she fell.

"Sniper!"

The cry had just long enough to escape Darlton's lips before he too toppled backward, blood flying from a black hole in the chest of his maroon coat.

One of the purple knightmares was already raising its rifle, aiming one-handed at the northwest corner of the stadium. It fired, sending a stream of bullets the size of a man's finger straight into the corner.

Clouds of concrete dust and debris rained down onto those unfortunate enough to be seated underneath. A groan of twisting metal echoed forth, and the shattered remnants of loudspeakers and floodlights fell down onto the crowd. The people surged, leaping from their seats to avoid the falling wreckage, a wave of humanity pushing out and away across the stands, driving the hapless stewards ahead of it or crushing them underfoot.

The wave reached the field, as desperate people clambered over the barriers and pushed for the exits. Those on the field were pushed forward, slamming into the line of soldiers forming up in front of the rostrum. Some of the soldiers fell down, and the others fought back, beating at the crowd with their rifle butts. At first the crowd fell back, yelling and clutching at bleeding faces, some crying for mercy, others roaring their anger.

They could not see the faces of the soldiers. They did not see men as frightened and confused as themselves, only faceless bullies battering and hurting them. They bellowed and screamed, and the soldiers levelled their rifles, roaring at them to back down; but most of the Japanese spoke no English, and could not understand.

Then someone threw a chair. It curled through the air, and slammed into one of the soldiers. An instant later more chairs were flying, one of them barely missing the medical team rushing to Princess Euphemia's side.

It only took one to react. A rush of adrenalin, a lightning-fast nerve response, a finger tightening on a trigger.

A rifle fired, unleashing a steam of bullets into the nearest body, tearing it open in a welter of blood, and passing through to strike another, and another, until they could go no further.

The roars became cries. The bellows of rage became shrieks of terror. The crowd crumbled away from the soldiers, like a wave receding down a beach. More and more fired, and more and more of the crowd fell, their blood soaking and pooling on the grass around them. Ahead, the crowds slammed into the tunnels, pushing and shoving, heedless of all around them. Any who fell were crushed, while countless more were crushed or suffocated on their feet, the crowd carrying their bodies along.

The only sound was a long, cacophonous scream.

* * *

"No…"

The word was powerless, meaningless; but Lelouch Lamperouge could not stop it from escaping his lips.

He stood where he had frozen, just before the mouth of the tunnel, on the wide red carpet that led to the rostrum. Behind him lay the unconscious forms of Suzaku Kururugi and three OSI bodyguards. Before him, at the other end of the tunnel, was a vision of hell.

How could it happen? How could he have done it? Why now, at that precise moment? How could the power of Geass, _his _power, betray him so completely, and at such a moment?"

"…_kill all the Japanese!"_

He had not meant it. He had not wanted it to happen, not really! It had just been a moment of pique, a childish fancy! He hadn't wanted this!

And yet it had happened. Though she had screamed and pleaded, the command had taken root. She had turned from him, and fled from the MCV, looming cold and silent behind him. He had raced after her, begging her to stop, knowing that it was useless. He had followed her out of the MCV, past her unconscious knight and bodyguards, and had seen her reach the rostrum, and call out to the crowd.

He had seen her fall, and all hell break loose.

No! No it wasn't his fault! He hadn't done _that_! He hadn't shot her! He hadn't let those soldiers fire on the crowd! It was an accident, a mistake! It was _Britannia_'s fault, not his!

"Hey! You there!"

He froze once again, his horrid reverie vanishing as two guardsmen, clad in the red infantry uniforms of Royal foot guards, emerged from the tunnel, rifles at the ready. They looked at him, standing there in the costume of Zero, his face and deadly, treacherous eye hidden. They looked at the bodies lying behind him on the red carpet. At him, at the bodies, at him again.

In any other time and place, it would have been farcical.

"I…"

The guardsmen aimed their rifles. Lelouch felt despair settle over him.

Then a mighty arm slammed down, their bullets bouncing off it. The arm was black, lined with shining gold.

"Come on! We have to go!"

The voice was familiar, though distorted by a knightmare's loudspeaker. The _Gawain, _which had stood silently to his left, reached for him with its free hand, grabbing him like a doll. With a whoosh of displaced air, the mighty knightmare lifted off, carrying him up and away.

Lelouch felt the wind buffet him, his cape whipping and cracking, as the golden hand reached him up towards the cockpit. The cockpit opened, and dropped him unceremoniously into his seat.

"Are you all right?" asked CC, looking up at him from her pilot's chair, below and in front of his own.

"I…I didn't mean it…" babbled Lelouch, clawing at his mask and pulling it off, breathing hard and fast to still his hammering heart. "I didn't want to…!"

"I know." There was something sad, and knowing, in the green-haired girl's tone. "It was the same with Mao. It just…happened out of nowhere."

"What about Suzaku?" demanded Lelouch. Through his screen he could see the young knight, still lying on the red carpet, oblivious to all that had happened. Those three OSI types hadn't moved either.

"That was mostly me," CC replied, returning her attention to the controls. "He…sensed me somehow. And then it happened, and he just collapsed."

Lelouch looked down at the sleeping knight again. His heart ached, his sorrow mingling with the horrid dread and cloying despair that slammed around his soul like waves against a cliff.

Suzaku Kururugi, the Japanese who had become a Britannian. Suzaku, who had been his dearest friend, and then his enemy, and then his beloved half-sister's knight…and perhaps something more. Suzaku, who had sold his soul to an evil empire that he might suffer and die for his sins. Suzaku, who had found redemption in the eyes of Euphemia li Britannia.

"_What have I done? What have I allowed to happen?_"

"What happened?" he managed to ask, as CC banked the _Gawain _away from the stadium. "What was it?"

"A sniper, apparently," she replied, with her usual equanimity. "Euphemia was hit, and then Darlton. The crowd stampeded, then the troops ran wild."

A beeping drew his attention. He brought up the sensors on his main screen, and saw an aircraft approaching the stadium. A moment later the registry entry appeared; a Britannian medical shuttle.

Then he remembered, and tapped at the comm panel. The comm came online, in voice-only mode as usual, and with his voice distorted the way his mask did. It was a good thing he had already programmed those little features in. In his current state, he would neither have remembered nor cared.

"Zero!" It was Kallen Kozuki, Captain of his bodyguards, leader of the small force he had stationed in the forests nearby. "What's going on? The comms are going crazy! They're saying Euphemia's been shot!"

"She has!" Lelouch confirmed, forcing himself to sound commanding. "Her and Darlton! The Britannians are running wild!"

"Zero! Where are you? I'm coming!"

"Don't worry about me! I'm in the Gawain overhead! Just get in here and stop the Britannians!"

He tapped at the keyboard, and a frame appeared around the shuttle's icon.

"There's a medical shuttle approaching the stadium!" he went on. "I've marked it on the battlenet. Leave it alone, but engage and destroy anything else!"

"Understood!"

The comm went silent. Lelouch sagged in his seat, emotionally and physically drained.

CC had the decency not to say anything.

* * *

Kallen Kozuki felt sick; a sickness that warred with pure, volcanic rage inside her.

They were being killed. Her people were being killed, slaughtered like animals.

Her knightmare, the _Guren Nishiki_, leapt over the rough ground as lightly as an acrobat. She had long since mastered it, its Neural Synchronizer reacting to her smallest impulse as if the_ Guren _was her own body. It was something to be proud of even then; a visceral, vengeful pride, suitable for a warrior racing into battle.

Behind her was the rest of Zero Squadron, their icons visible on the sensor screen in front of her. A few had gotten the new _Gekkas_, but most were piloting the older _Burai_s; little more than copies of the Britannian _Glasgow_. They weren't bad machines by any fair measure, but they couldn't keep up with her _Guren, _not easily anyway.

"Everyone! Keep up!" she barked into the comm. "People are dying out there!"

"Easy for you!" snapped Shinichiro Tamaki, already quite a way behind. "There's loads of rocks and trees here!"

Kallen gritted her teeth. She didn't mind people being attached to her unit, but why did she have to get stuck with _him_? Tamaki had wrecked more knightmares than anyone else in the Black Knights!

All at once they were out of the forest and onto flat ground; the buildings of the SAR just visible. She could see the people, the crowds swarming out of the streets surrounding the stadium, dissipating like smoke into the nearby fields.

Two knightmares – a pair of blue _Sutherlands_ – rounded a corner and raced into view, firing bursts into the crowd. Kallen's breath caught in her throat as she saw the heavy 20mm bullets strike home, throwing their targets to the ground in showers of blood.

She snarled, and slammed down the pedals. The Guren accelerated, quickly reaching full speed on the asphalt road. The two Sutherlands saw her, and levelled their weapons; oversized assault rifles scaled for a knightmare to carry. They fired, their shooting wild and sloppy. Kallen dodged easily, slewing the Guren left and right as she closed. A part of her knew she should use the autocannon on her knightmare's left wrist, but her bloodlust got the better of her.

She reached the nearest Sutherland. The blue-painted knightmare tried to back away, but Kallen was upon him, taking off his head with a slash of her fork knife. The Sutherland staggered, and Kallen lashed out with her right leg, knocking the headless knightmare to the ground. She levelled her autocannon, ready to finish him off.

"Damned Eleven!" His partner threw himself at her, Stun Tonfa emerging from his Sutherland's wrists. Kallen dodged just in time, the crackling electrodes flashing past, then thrust the Guren's oversized right hand straight at him. The clawed hand responded to her impulse, clenching around the Sutherland's plastron. She squeezed the trigger, snarling with fury as the _Fukushahado _activated, pouring microwave radiation straight into the helpless Sutherland. The screens before her face showed her all; the gleaming armour bubbling and distorting as the microwaves did their work.

"Filthy Eleven!" shrieked the doomed pilot over his loudspeaker. "Filthy, murdering, treacherous…!"

Then the microwaves reached his Yggdrassil drive, and exposed the liquid sakuradite at its core. The knightmare blew up, the blast buffeting the Guren and hurling half-melted debris in all directions.

It was done. Kallen remembered the other Sutherland and looked around, but the wrecked knightmare lay where it had fallen; the cockpit hatch hanging open.

For a moment, she thought of going after the pilot, of hunting him down through the streets of the Special Autonomous Zone, of slaking her rage with his blood and terror. She imagined herself cornering the wretch, of tearing him limb from limb, his blood mingling with the blood of countless innocent Japanese; blood for blood.

She stopped herself, driving the thought away. She had a job to do, and a unit to lead.

She glanced around. She saw more _Burais _go racing past, squad leaders on point, the rest in formation behind. They, at least, had managed to keep their heads on straight. Time to do likewise.

"All squads, spread out and keep watch for enemy forces!" she barked into the comm. "Engage and destroy! Watch out for the civilians!"

A chorus of affirmatives came back over the comm, but she barely noticed. She was watching the sky, looking around for the _Gawain_.

There it was, hovering near the stadium; its armour of black and gold gleaming in the sunlight, its wings glowing a spectral green. It loomed overhead, like some nightmarish angel of death.

And there was something else too. A Britannian VTOL shuttle, hovering just over the field. Kallen zoomed in her camera, and saw ascension cables dropping down from the shuttle. It was clearly the medical shuttle Zero had mentioned; the one he had insisted she not shoot at.

Her trigger finger twitched, and for a moment – a cold, dark moment – she contemplated disobeying. The only people on that shuttle would be Britannians; high-class, maybe even Royal. Was it so wrong to blow away an unarmed medical shuttle, for a chance to rid the world of a few more parasites? Would Zero be all that angry if she did?

For all the temptation, she knew that he would. She was Kallen Kozuki, Captain of Zero Squadron, leader of his bodyguards. He valued her, maybe even _trusted _her; for never once had she disobeyed him, or let him down.

He had _ordered _her to spare that shuttle. That was enough. No matter what else was going on, or however else she felt.

* * *

"Sir Gilbert! We have to go!"

Sir Gilbert Guilford, Knight of Honour to her Imperial Highness, Princess Cornelia, glared at the horror around him.

Standing on the rostrum, he could see it all with terrible clarity. The once-magnificent stadium was an abattoir, the hopeful throng replaced with the dead and dying. In the blink of an eye, magnificent possibility had become utter atrocity.

And he would probably never know why.

He turned, and glared at the guardsman who had called out to him. Whereas the guardsmen wore red versions of the standard infantry formal uniform - with its distinctive high-collared tunic - Gilbert wore a knee-length coat in the same colour, decorated with gold frogging; symbolic of his status as one of Cornelia's personal knights, and of the gap in their respective social standing.

"Not until we are done here," he replied coldly.

He turned back to the cluster of army medics. They had finished securing Euphemia and Darlton in their medical capsules, and now Euphemia's capsule was being winched up to the shuttle. It took four cable to haul it up safely, and the work was slow.

On the ground nearby lay the remains of Euphemia's gown; that pink and white one she had first worn on her sixteenth birthday, and which had become her trademark. It was a bloodstained ruin now, the medics having been forced to cut her out of it in order to fit her into the capsule.

It was nothing worth worrying about. The gown had already been ruined with all that blood, and any competent dressmaker in the empire – nay, the world – could replicate it down to the smallest detail. But seeing it there, a pile of crimson rags, left Gilbert feeling strangely bereft; as if something indefinable had somehow been hurt, irrevocably; like kicking a puppy, or breaking a doll, or crushing a rose.

"Sir!"

He turned, more than a little glad of the distraction. It was another of the guards, one of a cluster standing beside four bodies, lying on the floor of the rostrum. Three of them, two men and a woman, were clad in nondescript black business wear; the kind of outfit that screamed _OSI agent._ Quite right, for they were the three OSI agents assigned to organise and command Euphemia's security detail.

The other he would have known anywhere. A young man with soft brown hair, clad in a white uniform of a sort a knight might wear. Gilbert knew the face of Sir Suzaku Kururugi, Euphemia's personal Knight-of-Honour, very well.

"What's wrong with them?" he asked.

"We found them crashed out in front of the MCV," the guard replied. "We saw Zero there, but the Gawain made off with him."

"Are they dead?" Gilbert pressed. The guard turned, and jabbed his toecap into Suzaku's side, a little harder than was entirely necessary. The younger man did not so much as twitch.

"Out cold sir," the guard went on. "Something's laid them out completely."

Gilbert scanned his eyes over the four figures. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, they had failed their mistress; his Princess' little sister. A part of him wanted to draw his sidearm and finish them off himself. It would be a kindness, compared to what was waiting for them.

But then his eyes fell on Suzaku once again. Euphemia had always been so fond of that young man, that former Eleven, who so deserved to be called Japanese. He remembered how Euphemia had told him all about her new knight, of why she had chosen him, even at the cost of embarrassing her sister.

"_Princess Cornelia..._"

"We take them with us," he ordered. "Scuttle the MCV. We go as soon as they're on board."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

**And here we are.**

**This is a story I've been meaning to write for some time now. All I needed was a title, and the new Fragments of the Mosaic story series gave me the inspiration; or at least the title did. **

**I'm glad to be finally writing this story, and I hope that you all will enjoy it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_It is vain to find fault with those arts of deceiving wherein men find pleasure to be deceived._

_John Locke_

_**Aboard the Avalon, Area 11, May 2017**_

The OPERATION sign was still glowing; a grim shade of red in the sterile light of the infirmary.

It occurred to Lloyd Asplund that he had lost track of time. He couldn't remember exactly how long they had been there, waiting for that sign to wink out, and the surgeons to emerge.

He glanced down at the young man seated nearby, staring down at the floor. Suzaku Kururugi had barely spoken since they had arrived in the infirmary; indeed, since the medical shuttle had docked with the _Avalon_, and off-loaded the severely wounded Princess Euphemia and Andreas Darlton. The shuttle had then gone on to the Area HQ in Tokyo Settlement, carrying the three OSI agents who had been mysteriously rendered unconscious along with Suzaku.

Lloyd did not envy them. Heads were going to roll for this, and few were going to pay much thought to what had really happened, or who could reasonably be held responsible.

At least they had been given a medical checkup before being packed off; and he had managed to persuade CMO Darnley to include a full brain scan. The data had been…_interesting _to say the least, and might be the one thing that saved those three.

Not to mention Suzaku. Losing him would be damned inconvenient.

He glanced over at Sir Gilbert Guilford, who had stayed behind so as to report on Euphemia's condition. His face was its usual set; the thin-lipped mouth set into a grim scowl, those blue eyes behind the horn-rimmed spectacles; staring straight at a point directly ahead of him, at the featureless wall beyond. His stance was equally stiff, equally military; every inch the knight.

Finding little to interest him there, Lloyd glanced down at Suzaku again. That young man, little more than a boy really, with soft brown hair and green eyes. Though he stared down at the floor, Lloyd could see the look on his face. He could think of a half-dozen clichés for that look; like his soul had been sucked out, or the bottom had fallen out of his world.

In a very real sense, it was about to. Lloyd knew enough combat medic lingo to know what was going on, and how this day was going to end.

Cecile Croomy sat next to him, watching him attentively, her eyes full of sorrow and sympathy. She was good at her job, and Lloyd valued her more than he would ever stoop to admit, but if she had one weakness at all, it was that she had _feelings_. She actually felt things like compassion, and sympathy; especially when it came to Suzaku. Ever since they had found him, bleeding to death in Shinjuku Ghetto, she was the one who treated him like a human being; or maybe like a friend, or a younger brother.

Lloyd wasn't inclined to hold it against her. He found her attempts to _civilize _him far more irritating than her care for Suzaku. But all that _feeling _was going to hurt her, one day. Or perhaps it already had.

Lloyd had never been much good with feelings. He wasn't certain whether he was an actual sociopath; though he had been accused of it often enough. He just…didn't really feel anything when it came to other people, especially in situations like this. They were always putting on a show, emoting and chewing the scenery, weeping and wailing and screaming, and somehow expected him to join in, or to respond in a very specific way that only they knew, and that he wasn't allowed to know in advance. Getting it wrong could have a variety of responses, ranging from being called a heartless jerk, or a sociopath, through to door-slamming, or having things thrown at him.

If that's what emotionality was about, he was better off without it.

The light winked out, and the doors opened. Suzaku leapt to his feet, but Lloyd was already moving, striding towards CMO Darnley and his team, still clad in their surgical smocks, as they emerged from the surgery. Time to bite the bullet.

"Well, Richard?" Lloyd asked, though he already knew the answer. Darnley sighed a world-weary sigh.

"The bullet fragmented on the way in," he said. "We removed what we could, but some of it got into the bloodstream. Between that, the impact damage from the rest of the round, and all the blood she lost, it's a wonder she's held on so long."

"How long?" Lloyd pressed, ignoring Suzaku's gasp.

"Minutes, at most. If you want to see her, you best go in right now. I have to make my report."

"Very well. Thank you Richard."

CMO Richard Darnley made no reply as he strode off along the corridor. Without bothering to look at Suzaku or Cecile, Lloyd led the way into the surgery, Guilford falling in behind him.

Euphemia li Britannia lay on the surgical bed, her body covered by a white sheet. Her face was pale, but her eyes still twinkled as they saw Suzaku. Lloyd stood back with Cecile and Guilford as Suzaku stepped forward, and knelt by the bed. The only sound was the beep-beep of the heart monitor.

"Euphie…"

"Suzaku…" Her voice was hoarse, but somehow there was still life to it. "What…happened? I…can't remember anything."

"You went in to see Zero," Suzaku said, taking her hand in his. "Then you came running out, and someone shot you."

"But…why?" She looked confused. "Why did they do that? I…I never meant any harm."

"It's all right Euphie." Suzaku forced a cheerful smile onto his face. "It's all over now. You'll be better soon."

For a moment, Euphemia just stared up at him. And then her face – so pale against her pink hair, and the white of her pillow – softened in a gentle smile.

"Oh Suzaku, my love." Her voice was quavering, its strength fading. "I can't see…your face anymore."

"Euphie…hold on!" Tears ran down Suzaku's face as he clutched at Euphemia's pale hand. "Please hold on!"

"Please…keep going…to school…" Euphemia went on. "I wanted to…but I had to stop."

"We'll do it together!" pleaded Suzaku, still wearing that forced smile. "We'll go to Ashford Academy together! It's so much fun!"

Euphemia was still smiling. Even as the light faded from her eyes, and the beep-beep of the monitor gradually slowed.

"Tell Nunnally…and Lelouch…I'm sorry…"

"Euphie…"

"I wanted to be with you…Suzaku." Her voice was barely audible. "I love you…Suzaku…"

The light faded, and her eyes gently slid shut. Behind her, the slow beeping become a long, drawn-out tone, as her heart finally stopped beating.

Guilford closed his eyes, and lowered his head. Beside him, Lloyd heard Cecile gulp as she tried to control herself. Suzaku pressed Euphemia's pale, dead hand to his face, weeping softly into it.

All Lloyd Asplund felt was a strange, cold emptiness.

* * *

_**Special Autonomous Region**_

The _sound_.

To Kallen Kozuki, that was the worst part of it.

From her vantage point inside the meeting room at the top of the stadium's VIP tower, she could see the stadium and the tops of the surrounding buildings. She could see the crowd gathering on the grass below, heedless of the blood pooling around their feet. She could see her fellow Black Knights carrying away the last of the bodies away from the stands, and heaving them down to the makeshift mortuaries in the storage rooms. She had seen people carrying bodies away, but a part of her suspected that few would be claimed. Those who might be inclined to claim them were like as not down there in the storage rooms, or on the streets nearby.

But even those grim sights, and the thoughts that accompanied them, were as nothing compared to the _sound_. A terrible, undulating _wail_, hanging over the town like a dark cloud; the mingled voices of the bereaved, the desolated, their cries and wails blending into one horrid, soul-rending sound.

Kallen was no innocent. She had seen horrid things in the last seven years; things she would never entirely forget. She had seen people die; killed by the Britannians, or by fellow Japanese, or dying of sickness or starvation, or simple hopelessness. But this…this was like nothing else.

"This stinks."

She glanced around, surprised by the voice that broke the silence. It was Shinichiro Tamaki, sitting slouched in his seat at the central table, arms folded, face uncharacteristically grim.

"Tell us something we don't know," replied Yoshitaka Minami, Commander of the Special Forces Division. He glared sourly at Tamaki, and for a moment Kallen felt a twinge of disquiet. She had known them both for years, ever since her brother Naoto had finally given in and let her join his resistance cell. They had never gotten along all that well.

"Yeah, well it does!" Tamaki snapped back, rounding on Minami. "I mean…_look at it_!" He flapped his hand at the window, and the horror outside.

"I _did," _retorted Minami, a sudden edge to his tone. "I've been out there in the middle of it all day!"

"We all have," cut in Kaname Ogi, Zero's second in command, and Naoto's old right-hand-man. In those days he had generally played the peacemaker, bleeding off tension and containing arguments before they got out of hand. As Zero's second, his role had changed little in that respect.

"Who did it?" growled Kento Sugiyama, Minami's immediate subordinate and another veteran of Naoto's cell. "That's what I wanna know! _Who's responsible for this_!?"

Kallen didn't blame him for being angry. She was angry too, now that she thought about it. The terrible rage that had overwhelmed her during the battle had faded, but the _anger _was still there. She just didn't have any Britannians, any _enemies_, to direct it at.

"We won't know until Tohdoh gets back," replied Ogi. "And that's assuming he finds anything."

"Yeah," mused Tamaki. "I hear that stiff's a total mess. Took a 20mm burst full in the face. All over the walls."

Kallen did not like that image. She had seen it too many times.

"Well, he'd better find _something_!" grumbled Sugiyama. "They're gonna want to know who did it, and…"

He trailed off, as Diethard Reid appeared in the doorway. In spite of everything, his black suit and blonde hair - complete with pony tail and a long curl hanging over his right eye – remained spotless.

"Is Zero here?" he asked. His Japanese had improved since Kallen had first met him, but still accented.

"What is it?" asked Ogi, now looking even more worried than before.

"This is for Zero's ears only."

Kallen felt the sudden tension around the table. Diethard had been involved with the Black Knights since the early days, but none of them trusted, or even particularly liked him; and it wasn't just because he was a Britannian. As Head of the Intelligence Division, he was in charge of espionage, propaganda, and public affairs; a job he did well, but which did not easily attract respect or liking. That he was a journalist by profession – and it showed – made it all the worse.

Nevertheless, Ogi gestured at the office door, and Diethard strode over to it.

"Zero," he said, as the intercom buzzed. "It's Diethard Reid. I have an important message."

The door clicked open, and Diethard stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. All present stared at the door as the minutes ticked down, waiting for what they all dreaded might be coming.

After what seemed like an eternity, Reid emerged. He stood in front in front of the door, waiting for it to slide shut.

"We've intercepted a message from the Avalon," he said. "She's gone."

The tension faded, replaced with a dark, heavy cloud, as the words sunk in.

"Oh _great_," groaned Tamaki. "Just…_great_."

"Poor kid," mused Minami bitterly. "She didn't deserve that."

"Trust the Britannians to kill their own princess," grumbled Sugiyama. "Talk about a twisted country."

"Seriously?" It took Kallen a moment to realise that she had spoken. "You think the _Britannians_ did it?"

It was too much, too extreme, too _bizarre _even for them. She knew Britannia was capable of anything…but _that_?

"Well who else?" retorted Sugiyama, throwing up his hands. "You saw what was happening in the streets! None of them wanted the SAR!"

"He's right," added Naomi Inoue, head of the Logistics Division, speaking for the first time since she had entered the room. "Or at least we can't rule it out."

Kallen knew what they meant. She had seen the way some of the Britannian settlers had reacted to Euphemia's announcement. A few had been outright hostile, enough so as to randomly attack Japanese – or anyone who looked Japanese – in the streets. Most of the Ashford Academy students had been cynical about it, especially the girls for some reason. They all seemed to think she was doing it for Suzaku, and that they were lovers.

Her heart ached. Zero had told her about Kyushu, about what had passed between Suzaku and Euphemia that night. And when she had been stuck with him on that island, as his sort-of prisoner, she had seen a side of Suzaku Kururugi that she had neither expected – nor wanted – to see. Her own sense of justice had forced her to accept that he was not completely vile, and that for all her faults, Euphemia was not a worthless person either. They had _helped _each other, completed each other somehow.

It _hurt. _

"But…it doesn't make sense!" she pleaded, still unable to reconcile herself to what they were saying. "They _liked _her. You don't kill the princess people actually _like_! It's bad PR!"

"Captain Kozuki has a point," Reid cut in. "Euphemia was always one of the more popular members of the Imperial family. Killing her would be dangerous, especially over a relatively petty matter like this, and one to which Prince Schneizel had given his overt support."

"Oh yeah, him," mused Tamaki. "He's the Chancellor, right? I hear he basically does his dad's job for him."

"Pretty much, yes."

"But what do we actually know?" Ougi cut in. "Was there anything in the message? Anything about who might have done it?"

"Not much," replied Reid, apparently unperturbed by having so many questioning eyes upon him. "It was the official report from the Avalon's Chief Medical Officer. It mentions a rifle round of conventional size and weight, with no distinguishing marks, consisting with an assault rifle or sharpshooter rifle. The angle of entry was consistent with the shot being fired from the north-east corner of the stadium."

"We _knew _all that!" complained Tamaki.

"There was one other thing." Reid paused a moment, his countenance darkening just a little. "The report claimed that the bullet had partially fragmented shortly after impact."

"Damn."

Kallen blinked, taken by surprise. It was Minami, looking even grimmer than before.

"What?" asked a very nervous Tamaki.

"Partial fragmentation, no markings," Minami went on. "That means a homemade round, lightened to make it go further, with the fragmentation as a bonus." He gave them all a hard look. "A resistance round."

It took them a moment to process what he had said.

"No way!" protested Tamaki. "You're saying it was us?"

"It's a very real possibility," replied Reid firmly. Tamaki slumped in his seat, and the others all glanced at each other.

"This is bad, really bad." Minami was the first to speak. "We have to find out who did this, and fast!"

"Minami is right," added Reid. "The Britannians will almost certainly try to blame this on us."

"And they would be right."

All looked up. Standing in the doorway was Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, formerly a Lieutenant Colonel in the Japanese army, and now Zero's Chief of Staff. His narrow face was set in that emotionless mask it seemed to fall into naturally, but there was something cold and terrible in his eyes.

"Tohdoh…" Ougi stammered, taken aback. "What do you…?"

Tohdoh stepped up to the table, and threw something onto it. It took Kallen a moment to recognize it; a standard Britannian ID booklet, forced open to reveal the bio pages. The pages were stained with blood, but she could still make out the picture, and the data underneath.

And it made her blood run cold.

"Tenryo…" Yoshida snarled. "I should've _known_!"

"Wait, who is this?" demanded Tamaki, his face flickering between anger and confusion. "Don't tell me…"

"Kyosuke Tenryo," replied Tohdoh. "Special Forces Division. There isn't much left of him, but we found the ID, and the rifle. It was one of the Sazonovs we got last month."

The whole room seemed to deflate. Ougi slumped in his seat, his face sagging as the implication sunk in. Minami stared at the ID as if by doing so he could make it burst into flames, wiping away the shame its owner had piled upon him.

"This _cannot _get out!" Tamaki glanced from one to the other, near panic. "This absolutely positively _cannot _get out! If it does, we are totally _screwed_!"

"Why?" demanded Kallen. She was getting _sick _of the atmosphere, and the way it was getting to her. And _this _on top of everything! "He's just one guy!"

"You think they're gonna care about that?" Tamaki pointed an accusing finger out of the window. "You think they're believe the whole _one bad apple _routine? They want blood, Kallen! They want somebody to die in nasty ways! And if this gets out, it's gonna be us!"

Kallen opened her mouth to retort, to deny it, to _scream _that it wasn't true. But nothing would come out. It would not come, because she already knew he was right.

"But…_why_?" she bellowed, slamming her hand on the table. "Why did he do it? How could he go against Zero?"

"A lot of the rank-and-file weren't happy about Zero going along with the SAR," Minami spoke up. "I never expected Tenryo though."

"For the moment, it doesn't matter," Reid cut in. "We have a more immediate problem; namely the crowd outside."

Kallen glanced out of the window, and saw what he meant. A great sea of humanity was gathered in the stadium, heedless of the blood in which they trod. The cries of grief and pain had been replaced with a low, angry rumble.

"Holy _cow_!" Tamaki had joined her at the window, and was staring down. "There must be _thousands _of them!"

"And there's more outside," Diethard added. "And even more concentrating at the jumbotrons around the town."

"Well, where's Zero?" demanded Tamaki. "We need him to talk to them!"

"And so I shall."

All spun around. It was indeed Zero, standing just in front of the office door. So distracted had they been, that they had barely heard it slide open.

Standing just next to him was CC, the green-haired girl who was almost always at his side. In spite of everything, Kallen bristled at her presence. She was supposedly his personal assistant, but Kallen had rarely seen her actually do anything besides pilot the Gawain. Many of her fellow Black Knights, the men especially, were forever sniggering about what her _actual _role might be.

"Zero!" Tamaki rounded on him, panic-stricken. "Zero, it's bad!"

"More so than you know, Tamaki."

There was something…_weary _in his tone. Kallen had not heard it there since that night at Yokosuka, when they had blown up that sakuradite tanker, and what remained of the Japan Liberation Front. She had not seen his face, hidden as it was by shadow, but she had guessed what was going on, and what he had resigned himself to doing.

This time it was worse. Much worse.

"I take it you know the identity of the killer?" Zero asked.

"One of our own," replied Tohdoh, holding up the ID for Zero to see. "Kyosuke Tenryo, of the Special Forces Division."

"I see." A pause. "Who else knows of this?"

"I left guards on the body, but I alone saw the ID," Tohdoh replied. "In any case, the body is unrecognizable. If you want positive identification, it'll have to be a DNA test or dental records."

"Have Rakshata's team handle it as soon as they arrive." Zero turned to Minami. "Commander Minami, what explanation can you offer for this?"

Minami stood up, and bowed stiffly.

"I have no excuse, Zero," he said, his tone as stiff as his poise. "He gave no indication of political opinions beyond hatred of Britannia, nor did he express any particular opinion on the SAR. He was always a professional, if I may say so, a stone-cold killer. I had some concerns that some of my subordinates might take matters into their own hands, but I did not expect Tenryo. I accept full responsibility."

There was yet another long pause. Kallen wondered what Zero was thinking, and how he could be so _calm _about all this.

"I do not blame you for this, Commander Minami," he said eventually. "Diethard already told me that he had nothing on Tenryo either. It is clear that Tenryo acted on his own, and went to considerable lengths to conceal his intentions."

"Thank you for your understanding, Zero." Minami bowed again. Kallen felt a touch of relief. Minami had a funny reputation, but he was good at his job, and she couldn't bring herself to blame him for Tenryo's deed; even if, as his commander, Minami was technically responsible.

"Zero, we all agree on this," Ougi spoke up awkwardly. "But I don't know if the people will accept it."

"Yeah man!" added Tamaki. "It's like that actress and the car crash! People don't wanna believe that people like her can die because her driver was over the limit! They sure as hell won't believe that someone like Euphemia can just get shot by some guy with a rifle! It's not supposed to happen!"

"What would you have me do, gentlemen?" Zero's tone was mild, but Kallen shivered at an air of menace. "Would you have me lie to them? Shall I lie to these people, who have seen their hope cut down, and their loved ones slaughtered? Shall I tell them that I know what nobody knows?"

Kallen felt the air turn cold. They were _afraid_, she realised. Afraid, in a way they had never been before.

"I understand your concern, Zero," Reid cut in. "It would be bad for us to get caught in a lie, but…"

"Diethard!"

All except CC jumped at the barked command. Even Diethard, who loved the sound of his own voice, actually looked nervous. Kallen stared at the masked man standing there, his body tensing under that purple costume, wondering if this was really theirZero. She had _never _seen him like this.

"Be warned, all of you!" His voice was lower now, but there was power to it; the power that had inspired them all, and terrified their enemies. "As Emperor Lothar said, the seed a nation sows at its birth, it reaps until the day it dies. Would you have this new Japan be born tainted? Would you have it be born amid a lie?"

"Zero…" Ougi managed to reply. "Zero, what do you…?"

"Tell them, Diethard."

Diethard Reid took a moment to regain his composure.

"There are riots breaking out all across Japan," he said. "Every ghetto is in uproar. Every police division and settlement garrison are begging for help. Our Prefectural HQs report that multiple non-aligned cells are attacking the Britannians on their own initiative. Our allied groups await Zero's instructions."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Yes, everyone," Zero said. "It has happened, on a scale even I could not have imagined. One hundred and fifty million Japanese are rising as one, and the Britannians are run ragged."

"Then…then we're going, right?" Tamaki's fear was gone, replaced with a desperate, yearning joy. "It's on, right?"

The atmosphere had changed completely. The darkness was gone, replaced with a new hope; a hope few of them had felt before Zero had brought them together. It was like the sun emerging from an eclipse.

"It will have to be," Zero said mildly. "We will never get a chance like this again."

"Zero." Tohdoh cut in, his grim tone cutting through the mood. "We're not ready. We haven't acquired _half _of the equipment and supplies our original plan required."

He glanced at Naomi, who glanced down at her tablet.

"All prefectural cells have reached stage one preparation," she said. "The Kanto and Chubu cells, along with Fukushima, have reached stage two; since you ordered they be prioritized. Of the twelve armoured trains we had planned, only six are ready; four assault, two artillery. The Kyoto caches have enough heavy equipment ready for one regular corps, when the full plan required four at least."

The euphoria faded a little, blending with uncertainty. All eyes fell once again on Zero; like children pleading to be told that Santa was real after all.

"A few days ago, Commander Ougi met with representatives of the Chinese Federation, on my instructions," Zero said.

He looked expectantly at Ougi, who jumped when he realised he was the centre of attention.

"I met with one of the Grand Eunuchs, a man named Gao Hai," he said. "He said that they would support us, but only if we were able to capture the Tokyo Settlement HQ."

"Do you believe them, Zero?" Tohdoh asked, his eyes suspicious.

"No, not really," replied Zero plainly. "But we have no viable alternative. Even if the Chinese Federation does not come, our best hope of victory lies in preventing the Britannians from coordinating their forces here in Japan. It will take the Britannians at least two weeks to move substantial reinforcements from the homeland; we must assume that we have that much time at most."

"Zero," Tohdoh cut in again. "If we can only attack with the Kanto and Chubu forces, this will be all-or-nothing."

"You are right, Tohdoh." Zero paused, and Kallen could have sworn that he had sighed. "But we have no choice now. We can only follow this path, and make what we will of it."

He turned towards the door. Kallen darted past the others and fell in at his shoulder as he strode away along the corridor, the others falling in behind.

"Zero…" Kallen paused, wondering what on earth she was doing. "Zero…are you all right?"

For a long time they strode in silence, and Kallen felt a fool.

"Don't worry about me, Kallen," he said, after what felt like an eternity. "My path is set, and it has never been clearer."

Kallen wanted to feel comforted by his words. But they chilled her to the bone.

* * *

_**Aboard the Avalon**_

He was alone.

It was quiet in the small room, where they had laid Euphemia's body. It had taken threats to make him let go of her hand, but fortunately no violence. Then he had been forced to wait, for what felt like forever, while her body was examined, cleaned, and laid on that little bed, in that small dark room. When the proper arrangements had been made, she would be laid in state in one of the cargo bays, for her journey back to Britannia.

Seated on a small metal chair, Suzaku watched over her. Even in death she was still so very beautiful; her pale skin pristine, almost porcelain, her pink hair fanning over the pillow like a halo, the thick sheets pulled up tight to the base of her neck, concealing the wound that had killed her. Her eyes were closed now, her small mouth expressionless, peaceful.

But she was dead, that much Suzaku knew. There was nothing left of her now. Not that shine in her eyes, not her smile, or the innocent joy she seemed to find in the simplest, silliest things. Not the desperate hope she had carried in her heart, that she might make the world a better place in some small way.

The dream she had shared with him. The dream that had lifted him from the darkness, from the remorse and despair that had hung over him for so many years.

From the day he had killed his own father.

Yes, he was alone. Alone in spirit. As alone as he had been before that strange day a few months ago, when he ran into Lelouch again.

He had thought he would die that day. Indeed, he had been seeking it for many years, ever since he had become an Honourary Britannian, and joined the army. He had endured the abuse of the Britannian instructors, the sneering contempt of the officers, the casual cruelty of his fellow soldiers; men and women without hope or pride. He had accepted being sent into danger without a weapon; for only by such service could he prove his loyalty, and be granted the privilege of actually bearing arms.

All so that he could die, at the hands of one of his former countrymen; the countrymen whose leader he had murdered, whose betrayer he had turned into a martyr. They would never know, or understand, what had happened that day. But at least they would have justice, of a sort.

But he had lived. By some bizarre miracle he had lived, and ended up in the service of the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps; a subsidiary of Camelot, Prince Schneizel's personal research and development unit. He had met Lloyd, and Cecile, and over time had come to think of them as friends…after a fashion. He had piloted the Lancelot, discovering a power he never knew he had.

And he had met Euphie.

He had met her, and come to know her, and she had come to know him. He had seen in her someone truly special, a storybook princess come to life, wanting nothing more than to bring a measure of happiness to a world drowning in misery. And she had seen something in him; something noble, something good, something worthy to live, and thrive.

He had wanted nothing more than to stand at her side. To help her, to protect her, to ensure that her dream became a reality. What better redemption, what better life, could someone like him have asked for?

Now she was dead. And all was lost.

Doubtless they would want a scapegoat; and he was the obvious choice. He didn't care if they executed him; shackled, blindfolded, and kneeling, his sword snapped in front of him, all honour and dignity stripped away. Now that it came to it, he didn't particularly mind.

But then again, this was the Avalon, this was an airship. Why go through all that, when he could just open a hatch and step out?

Yes, that would be much better. Why give Britannia the satisfaction of degrading and killing him? Even that crumb of comfort was more than they deserved.

He had thought about it. He had even decided to do it, several times since he had entered that room and sat down in that chair. But as he stood up, he faltered.

He couldn't go, not like that. He couldn't just leave Euphie like this, all alone. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave her, to go away from her. He couldn't leave her alone.

Tears pricked at his red, weary eyes; tears he thought he had run out of. Tears of despair, and of shame. He had failed her utterly, ruined his one last chance at redemption. And he couldn't even find the courage to kill himself.

How much different would the world be if he had only managed to do that? How much _better _would the world have been if he had just knelt down and slit his belly open, as his ancestors would have done. If he had done that, he would never have become a soldier, never have met Euphie. She would have chosen another knight, a better knight, who would have saved her life.

"It's so sad, isn't it?"

Suzaku jumped. He was _sure _no one had entered the room.

He turned, and stared as what looked like a young boy walked past him, and stood by the bed, level with Euphemia's pillow. He stared down at her, his face curiously melancholy. He had very long blonde hair that billowed like Nunnally's, reaching right down to the floor. He was small and slight, maybe twelve years old if Suzaku was any judge, his body swathed in a thick cloak. Something in his face, in the shape of it, reminded him of Nunnally.

"Poor Euphie," he said, in a young boy's voice that somehow didn't fit. "Such a kind heart, such good feelings. Alas, Euphie. You didn't deserve this."

He touched the forefingers of his right hand to his lips, and laid them on Euphemia's pale forehead.

Suzaku opened his mouth to speak, to demand that this boy explain himself. Who was he? How could he just barge in here like this? Why hadn't the guards outside stopped him?

But he was too…_bewildered _to be properly angry.

"Who…are you?"

"Yes, you're probably wondering about that," the boy said, without looking up. "You can call me VV. I am, among other things, a personal agent of the Emperor."

Suzaku stared in hopeless bewilderment. At least that explained why the guards had let him in. But…seriously? This boy, an agent of the Emperor?

"And you are Suzaku Kururugi," the boy went on, turning to face him. "Formerly Private Suzaku Kururugi, 1st Auxiliary Garrison Regiment, second battalion, third company; later seconded to ASEEC, and then selected as Her Imperial Highness Princess Euphemia li Britannia's personal Knight of Honour. You were born in 2000 A.D., at the Kururugi Shrine, Yamanashi Prefecture, former state of Japan. Your parents were Genbu Kururugi and Kimiko Sumeragi."

"With all due respect," Suzaku replied, "all of that is public record."

"On August 28th, 2010, you killed your father at his command post on the Izu Peninsula," the boy continued. "You killed him with a sword belonging to a Colonel Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, who was then your martial arts instructor. He then conspired with Taizo Kirihara and Reuben Ashford to cover it up, releasing the official story that your father committed suicide rather than see his country fall, and ensured that Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia would live under the protection of the Ashford family."

Suzaku gaped, his weary mind overwhelmed.

"How…how could you…how could you know?"

"My associates and I make a point of knowing these things," VV replied mildly. "In this case, it was the only way to convince you of my sincerity."

Suzaku slumped back into the chair. He could bear no more of it.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need your help with a certain matter," VV explained. "Also, because you deserve to know the truth."

"What truth?" Suzaku asked, unable to contain a sudden flash of curiosity.

"The truth of why Clovis is dead," VV replied. "The truth of why Jeremiah Gottwald seemingly lost his mind that night, and allowed Zero to rescue you. The truth of why, despite your best efforts, you have hitherto been unable to die. The truth of what really happened earlier today."

"Why?" Suzaku cursed himself for being so eager, for not containing his desperate yearning. But he couldn't help himself. He was beyond brinkmanship, or strategy of any kind. He just wanted to _know_!

"I will tell you a story that has shaped the world for millennia," VV went on. "I will tell you of a secret that has warped humanity's development, and overturned the course of history. I will tell you of a power that has been dictating your life since before you were born."

VV paused, and a shadow seemed to settle over him. The look in his eyes made Suzaku's blood run cold.

"I will tell you…of Geass."

* * *

_**Special Autonomous Region**_

The crowd _roared _as he emerged from the tunnel, their chants blending into a tidal wave of noise that buffeted him from all sides.

In that moment, Lelouch Lamperouge wanted nothing more than to not be there. To be anywhere, anyone else. He even wished he had not already Geassed himself, back when he was fighting Mao. That way, he could wipe his own memory and forget the whole thing.

But he could not. There was no escaping this. Not now.

He stopped, standing directly before the patch of blood that marked the centre of the dais. Euphemia's blood, the sacred ground. Not for them, nor anyone, would he lay his feet upon it.

"Friends!" he called out, his mask's amplifier projecting his voice out over the stadium. "Japanese!"

He paused a moment, letting them quiet down. Hundreds of thousands of people, crammed into the stadium that, a few hours ago, had been an abattoir. Hundreds of thousands of eyes, boring into him from all sides. Hundreds of thousands of ears waiting to hear him speak. Hundreds of thousands of hearts, yearning to be uplifted.

"I stand before you, in what was meant to be a place of hope!" he began. "I stand before you, on what was meant to be a day of rejoicing! I stand before you, a witness to your anguish, to your pain, to your betrayal!"

The crowd roared again, forcing him to pause.

"Long have I waited in the darkness, hoping for a new dawn!" he went on. "Long have I waited in the shadows, waiting for the one who would drive the shadows away! I hoped, as you did, that Princess Euphemia was the one to do it! I believed, as you did, that the promised one had finally come! I _knew_, as you did, that this was the day when Britannia would change its ways, and finally begin to turn from the path of destruction!"

No sound this time. He had gotten their attention.

"Instead of hope, we have despair! Instead of joy, we have bloodshed! Instead of happiness, we have grief beyond measure! Instead of new life, death!"

_Now _they roared, screaming their hatred and grief, their betrayal. His heart clenched, for he knew what was coming.

"Friends, Japanese, I must tell you…" He fell silent, forcing down the lump in his throat. He could hear a murmuring in the crowd. His pause was rattling them.

"I must tell you…" he forced out the words. "We have received word…that Princess Euphemia…is dead."

A terrible _groan _washed over the stadium like a cold, dark wave. Lelouch watched as children sobbed, women wailed, and men screamed at the sky. A great undulating wail, that same one he had heard before, rose up from the crowd as their grief mingled together. He could hear their voices, one or two amid the tumult.

"_She can't be dead!"_

"_It's not fair!"_

"_Euphemia-sama!"_

"_Not like this!" _

For a moment, Lelouch could not say more. He could not say it, though he knew he had to. He could not do it to them, not like this.

But what choice was there?

"Her precious blood lies upon this ground! And yet, how did Britannia mark her martyrdom? Did they have ears to hear her words? Or hearts to understand? No, friends! They stained this land with the blood of innocents! Today we have seen the true face of Britannia, a pack of robber-barons masquerading as a nation, daring to call itself the destined ruler of the world!"

The wails became a roar; a roar of blood-boiling hatred. Lelouch let it wash over him, let them scream out their fury, and their pain. Just a few minutes to let them come back to themselves.

"I hearby declare our independence from Britannia! But don't take this to be the return of the old Japan! We will not turn back the hands of time! Rather, let us create a new country in this land. A country that shall stand for justice, and honour, and peace! A country made not for any one nation or tribe, but for any and for all! This country shall have no need of an arrogant title! It shall simply be named Japan!"

The crowd began to cheer. Time to wrap it up.

"Friends, do not believe that Britannia is invincible! All across the world, oppressed peoples struggle and suffer to rid themselves of Britannian tyranny! And even now, the armies of the European Union fight on, sacrificing the flower of their youth to hold back the tide of darkness! Friends, let us march to their assistance! Japanese, let us raise a banner of hope!"

He spread his arms wide. Big finish.

"Will you help me, Japanese? Will you help me build a new country? Will you help me change the world?"

The cheers became a roar of approbation. The crowds _screamed, _flinging their arms into the air.

_Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ _Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ _Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ _Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ _Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ _Zero! Zero!_

On and on they chanted. But they could not see the tears running down his face.

"_Euphie…forgive me, please forgive me._"

* * *

**And here we are! Sorry for the long delay with this one. Chapter 3 will be up shortly.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_The shaft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle's own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction._

_Aesop_

**_Special Autonomous Region, Area 11, May 2017_**

Finally, some peace. After a fashion.

After dealing with the throngs around the stadium, even the crowded platform at the nearby freight yard seemed a relief. At least those crowded around were fellow Black Knights; his inner circle, their immediate subordinates and hangers-on, plus Kallen and her Zero squadron pilots.

Lelouch glanced around the freight yard. It was a hive of activity, as bulky-looking labour frames raced back and forth, moving construction supplies out of the way to make room for the military supplies that would soon be gathered there. There were others too, men and women, some clad in the distinctive black uniform of the Black Knights, one or two in old army green, others in civilian clothes or work overalls; all hard at one sort of work or another.

He almost envied them their work, hard though it was, and even harder before this was over. There were supplies to stack, the wounded to evacuate, and new volunteers to organise and send where they were needed. But for all that it was honest and simple; much more so than the labours that awaited him.

He glanced at Ougi, as the taller man flipped his phone shut.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"Kyoto's under control," Ougi replied. He looked tired. "The Kansai HQs are forming their brigades, and the 1st Corps personnel are arriving. They're offering us the White Sash brigade, if we can lay on some trains for them."

"Good. Send word to Tsuruga. They'll need a least five trains, more like eight if they can manage."

"Yes Zero."

As Ougi began dialling, Lelouch set his mind in motion. The White Sashes were one of Japan's more disciplined and capable rebel groups, and they would prove a real asset in capturing Tokyo. They were also relatively large; managing two, maybe three thousand fighters, or a little under half the fighting strength of the old Japan Liberation Front. They lacked the furious pride of Samurai Blood, or the homicidal craziness of the Skirted Devils, but they were good at what they did.

The only likely problem was their politics. They were romantics, finding joy in selfless devotion to their nation and its ideals. They would willingly hurl themselves at Britannia without much hesitation, but Lelouch wasn't sure how they would react to his plans for Japan's future.

Another problem for later.

"Zero-sama!"

Lelouch turned to see where the cry had come from, only for a blur to fling itself into his arms. As his bewilderment passed, he saw that it was a young girl, of about Nunnally's age or thereabouts, with black hair worn long and straight, held in place by a golden circlet, and green eyes that shone with delight as they gazed up at him. She was clad in what he supposed was a kimono, or at least a variant of one. It was in a pale pink, with a long pleated skirt running from her waist to the floor, and a broad shawl that fastened in front with a red bow.

He knew who she was.

"Lady Kaguya," he greeted her, as he tried to gently disentangle himself. "To do what do I owe this honour?"

"To the irrepressible joy of your new wife!" proclaimed Kaguya Sumeragi, still beaming as she stepped back. "I just couldn't wait any longer, my lord husband!"

Lelouch paused a moment, uncertain how to respond. He could feel the others staring at him. Best to settle this before they started getting funny ideas.

"Everyone." He turned, and stepped aside to let them see her clearly. "I have the honour to present the Lady Kaguya Sumeragi."

There followed a chorus of bows and awkward greetings. Most had not a clue how to properly greet one of Kaguya's high birth. But if she was at all offended or put out, she made no show of it.

"I greet you all, brave Black Knights!" she declared, her voice high and clear. "I, Kaguya Sumeragi, have been tasked by Kyoto to act as their official representative at the side of Zero, my future husband!"

She looked up at him once again. She would have been impressively dignified for her age, but for her girlish high-spiritedness.

"I fear you have me at a disadvantage," he said, as fulsomely as he could manage. "As great an honour as it is, I cannot recall ever seeking your hand, my lady."

For a moment, he half expected Kaguya to do something ridiculous, like snap at him or burst into tears. Instead she giggled.

"That's because it's _destiny_, Zero-sama!" she proclaimed. "Our meeting was written in the stars!"

Behind his mask, Lelouch smiled in spite of himself. He had not seen Kaguya in many years, not since he was a mere boy, a hostage Prince living at the Kururugi Shrine. She had been mercurial then too, quick to anger, and easily frightened. Only Suzaku, her cousin and supposed fiancée, had been able to make her behave. His first memory of her was her having some sort of argument with Nunnally, over something probably quite trivial which he could not remember. Funnily enough, they had actually gotten along quite well after that.

"Ah, but Zero-sama," she went on. "Why do you not wait in the station, in greater comfort?"

"We will need to load the knightmares as soon as the train arrives," he replied. "Once we are aboard, our destination is Tokyo Settlement, and the battle that matters."

The sound of a steam whistle drew their attention. Lelouch watched with mild interest as a train approached from the west. The clouds of smoke and steam billowing around it gave it away as a steam locomotive, located in the middle of the train. As the train slowed and turned off the main line into the loop, Lelouch could clearly see the gun wagon at the front, and the armoured flanks of the carriages. On the locomotive's armoured tender, some wag had sprayed _Black Thunder _in Japanese.

"An old steamer?" Tamaki asked, mildly incredulous as the armoured train came to a clunking halt.

"The Britannians cut the power," replied Ougi. "These things don't need it."

"All right," Lelouch cut in. "CC, Kallen, get the Gawain, Guren, and as many knightmares as possible onto the train. The rest will follow on the next train. We leave as soon as we're loaded."

CC nodded, and sashayed towards the Gawain. This elicited a frown from Kallen, but she shook her head and strode off towards the Guren, shouting orders at the Zero squadron knightmare pilots.

Lelouch paused a moment as the heavy carriage doors were opened for him. He glanced back over the town, taking one last look at the place where the world had changed forever.

And where what remained of his childhood, his innocence, had been finally lost.

Remembering himself, he looked back towards the carriage, and then paused. He stepped aside, and held out his hand to Kaguya. She giggled, laying her pale hand across his black glove, and let herself be handed aboard.

* * *

Kallen watched, a little disconsolately, as Zero helped that Sumeragi girl onto the train.

Seriously? Some high-born girl from Kyoto? What was she doing there?

She knew who Kaguya Sumeragi was, of course. Plenty of people did, though few had seen her in the flesh. Even Kallen herself had not, though she had accompanied Zero and the others to Mount Fuji, for that meeting with Taizo Kirihara. She had only seen the picture Zero had shown them beforehand; along with all the other Kyoto big noises. Only Kirihara and his gun-toting minions had been present.

A clunking noise drew her from her thoughts. The doors on two of the carriages – freight wagons, from the look of them – were sliding open to receive the knightmares. The _Gawain_ was already moving, crouching down to clamber into the wagon, watched by nervous-looking train crew.

Kallen didn't blame them. She knew her _Guren_, the Gekkas, and the Burais could fit in just fine, at least if they crouched; maybe six to a wagon if they squeezed them in tight. But the _Gawain _was two metres taller than the average knightmare. It would have to crouch down low, and might take up space for two, maybe even three Gekkas.

This was going to be tricky.

"_Ano…_"

A hesitant plea, in Japanese. Kallen looked round, and saw a young girl standing there. She was about Kallen's own age, maybe a little younger; with brown hair arranged into large twin-tails that made her look even younger. Her clothes were covered in dust, her eyes bright, afraid, yearning.

"Can I help you?" Kallen asked. No harm in being polite.

"I…" The girl hesitated again. "I want to help. Any way I can."

Kallen forced herself not to sigh. She didn't want to be harsh with the girl, but she really didn't have time for this.

"What about your family?" she asked, cautiously. "Are you with anyone here?"

The girl didn't reply straight away, but something in her eyes made Kallen regret the question.

"My parents…" Her lip wobbled. "They…didn't make it."

Then she remembered. A young girl, sprawled on the ground by a pile of rubble, a Sutherland aiming down at her.

"I'm so sorry," she said. She meant it, but she had little to offer beyond that. She was just so…_weary _somehow. "But we're going into battle. It'll be dangerous."

"I want to help!" the girl shrieked, her fists clenched and shaking. "Please! Please let me help!"

This time Kallen couldn't stop herself from sighing.

"Listen, uh…" she trailed off, realising that she didn't know the girl's name.

"I'm sorry! I'm Benio Akagi!" The girl forced herself to bow.

"Okay, Benio-san…" Kallen paused, wondering how to make her understand. "This is going to be dangerous. If you thought this was bad," she gestured at the town, "what's coming will be a lot worse."

"I know!" pleaded Benio. She looked like she was about to cry. "But I want to! I _have _to!"

She was shaking. Kallen wanted to tell her to get out of there, to see to her parents instead. But how was a young girl in her state supposed to deal with something like that? There might not even be anything left to bury.

More than that, she knew what Benio was going through. She was forcing herself to go on, holding herself together with the need to get involved, to help, to fight. It wouldn't keep her going forever, but for now, at least, it was a way to not fall apart.

Kallen knew, only too well. It been that way when her brother Naoto was killed. She had dragged herself on for weeks, turning her grief into rage, piling it all on the Britannians, forcing herself to keep busy, to stay focussed on something, _anything. _

But then the time had come when there was nothing, no way to distract herself, no way not to face it. She could no longer stop herself from wailing, screaming, weeping. She was only glad no one had seen it.

"Benio-san," she asked. "What do you do? Is there anything you're particularly good at?"

"I…"

Her heart sank as Benio trailed off. Her sudden, awkward silence told her all she needed to know.

But those eyes…

"Listen," she said, pointing towards the train. "Go to those railway guys over there, and tell them Captain Kallen Kozuki of the Black Knights sent you. They'll find you something to do."

For a moment Benio did not respond. Then came the light, shining in her eyes. The light of hope.

"Th…thank you, Captain!" She bowed again, far too fast. "I won't let you down!"

Kallen watched her as she hurried off towards the train. She could only hope she wasn't making a bad mistake.

* * *

**_Saitama Prefecture, Area 11_**

The night was cold.

For Li Xingke, it was not a hardship, not as such. He had spent enough time in the cold to know how it felt, how to deal with it. Plenty of hard marches in the Xinjiang mountains, plus that survival test on the Mongolian plains, and that one tour in Tibet. He had been colder than this in his time.

But for all that it got at him. It niggled at him, slowly easing its frigid claws into his flesh, draining away his strength, his life. It was always there, slowly but surely killing him, hovering over him like a bad memory.

He drove the thoughts away, forcing himself to concentrate, to breath slowly and deliberately, to fix his mind on the sight before him.

And what a sight. There in the distance was Tokyo Settlement, its lights glittering in the darkness, illuminating the artificial plateau upon which it stood. Its nearest edge followed the route of the old Yamanote railway line, continuing to Kita in the north, then south along the Arakawa river to Edogawa, then finally the Edo river down to the bay.

But it was the western side that interested him. With the east side protected by the Edo river, the most likely avenue of attack was from the west side; and if the comm traffic was accurate, Zero and his rebel armies were converging primarily from that direction. Just beyond a broad, desolate no-man's land that marked the boundary, he could see the grim sea of ruins that were the Tokyo ghettoes. There was Shinjuku, cut in half by the settlement, with what remained mostly flattened for 'rezoning'. Then there was Shibuya, and Meguro, and further out Nakano, and Meguro, and Setagaya, and Ota, and so many more.

He had heard the reports, and carefully marked them on the map in his pocket. Four armies were now converging on Tokyo; following the Tokaido, Joetsu, Hokuriku and Tohoku railway lines, along with countless smaller formations moving along lesser routes. If all went well, the first rebel mobile elements would arrive in an hour or so, and they would have the settlement effectively invested not long after that.

His brown eyes narrowed as he saw a flash in the distance. He focussed, and then there was another, and another; a small cluster of them running along one of the overhead expressways that ran out of the settlement, passing over the ghettoes and dropping gently down to ground level a safe distance outside. The expressways had been fairly busy over the past few hours, as soldiers and civilians alike sought refuge in the settlement. Cars, trucks, motorhomes, some of them crammed to the gills with boxes and bags or pieces of furniture, some with people hanging on for dear life. The soldiers had come in dribs and drabs, a few trucks or APCs or LAVs, even the odd knightmare. All the while, he had seen passenger ships moving out of the bay, and planes taking off from the airport with as little as two or three minutes between them.

People were clearing out. Running for their lives. Anything to escape the nightmare that had haunted them, unacknowledged, for seven years.

There was little the ghetto dwellers could do against the settlement itself. The artificial plateau was two hundred metres off the ground; supported by metres-thick pillars of concrete and steel, each one strong enough to withstand artillery fire. But they could at least get at the overhead transit routes; the expressways, railways, and the intercity monorails. That was where most of the fighting had been going on; as the rebels tried to force their way onto the freeways, and the Britannian troops struggled to fight them off.

"Commander."

Xingke glanced to his left. It was Zhou Xianglin, clad in the same store-bought fatigues he and the others were wearing. Her brown hair was in its usual style; pulled tight behind her head but for a narrow tress covering her right ear, and tied in the back into four tight bunches. Her green eyes were bright and hard.

"Xianglin." He addressed her by her given name, a privilege she had long since earned.

"News from D Section," she replied primly. "The rebels have taken Maruyama station. The remaining Britannian troops in the area are fleeing back to the settlement."

Xingke paused as he thought it through. Maruyama station was where the Tohoku and Joetsu lines met, before heading south into Tokyo. That the rebels had taken it confirmed his suspicion that Zero intended his northern and north-eastern forces to combine before pushing south. Working together, they would easily any remaining Britannian troops back into the settlement, and leave other northern units free to push south into Tsukuba and Chiba, to the east of Tokyo.

That it had fallen so easily suggested one or both of two things; that the Britannians were still in disarray, or that they were running dangerously short of troops.

"Did F Section report in?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes Commander. They reported movement on the Joso and Joban lines. Also rebel boat units have mobilised on Kasumigaura bay and the surrounding waterways. The Britannians are run ragged."

Xingke allowed himself a twinge of satisfaction at having his suspicion confirmed. It was the obvious thing to do under the circumstances, but when operating on this scale, and with such hardscrabble resources, one could not expect too much.

He began to wonder if this was really the limit of what this Zero character could manage. Or did he have something more…_sophisticated _in mind?

"There is something else, from B Section." Xianglin paused. "The Britannian position in Yokohama has collapsed. Rebel forces are massing in the area."

That was enough to make Xingke look up. Yokohama was a major port, one of a handful in Japan equipped to handle and ship sakuradite in both its liquid and ore forms. As such it was also a major settlement – the closest one to Tokyo – and heavily defended. He would have expected the defences to hold the rebels up for at least a day or two, more likely a week or more. But to fall so quickly?

"Did they say how the settlement fell?" he asked.

"The reports are confused." Something shifted in Xianglin's normally stern countenance. Xingke knew her well enough to tell that she was confused herself. "All teams agree that an armoured train arrived an hour ago, followed by several freight trains. Several knightmares were deployed from it, including the _Guren Nishiki_, and they joined the battle immediately."

Yes, that would explain it. Xingke had seen the online footage of the _Guren Nishiki_, the Black Knights' crimson knightmare, the one it was whispered had been constructed in India. An impressive machine, with an even more impressive pilot. Only Britannia's own top machine, the _Lancelot_ had been able to best it.

"Where Guren dances, Zero is watching," he mused. Evidently Zero's arrival had tipped the balance.

"Yes Commander, but there is something else." That same flicker again. "Some of the reports mention a flying knightmare; or a small flying object in any case. One of the teams claimed it was firing bolts of lightning, and wreaking heavy damage. The other teams confirmed large explosions at about the same time."

Xingke allowed himself to smirk.

"There was no confusion, Xianglin," he replied. "What they saw was the _Gawain_, a Britannian prototype knightmare, which they somehow allowed to fall into rebel hands. The lightning in question was almost certainly its Hadron cannon; which I take from its name to be a charged particle weapon of some kind."

Xianglin's eyebrow twitched. In anyone else it approximately equated to bulging eyes or gaping like a goldfish.

"I had heard rumours of such a thing," she said, wonder in her voice. "At Kyushu."

"Yes. This was the same machine that wrought such havoc on our mission to Kyushu. It also conveniently confirms that Zero was indeed at Yokohama, the Black Knights doubtless accompanying him."

He wasn't really supposed to have revealed any of it. He had only been allowed to learn about the _Gawain _when the Grand Eunuchs selected him for this mission. But since the proverbial cat was already out of the bag, there seemed little harm.

"So then, Zero has reached Yokohama," he thought aloud. "And is doubtless consolidating before he pushes on into Shinagawa. The only barrier left is the Tama River, and if Zero is as capable as I think he is, the bridges will already have been secured."

He let his words hang in the air. Zero had made good time, good time indeed. He would enjoy analysing this rebellion further, working out just how he had done it.

Or rather he would, if not for the responsibility the Eunuchs had forced upon him.

"Commander, may I ask a question?"

"You may, Xianglin."

"Why are we here?"

Xianglin turned her head to look straight at him. For a moment, Xingke thought to stall her, to tell her that the Eunuchs had commanded it, and that was that. But there was something in her eyes that brought him up short, something he could not lie to.

"We are here because the Grand Eunuchs granted me a particular mission." He paused, trying to find the words.

"What mission, Commander?"

"To decide the fate of this rebellion."

* * *

**_Government Bureau, Tokyo Settlement _**

Hell.

That's how it looked, to Sir Gilbert Guilford. From his vantage point on the command centre's observation gallery, he could see it all with terrible clarity. Before him was the curving shape of the settlement plateau, the emergency warning lights casting its streets and towers in a malevolent crimson glow. Beyond was the great undulating darkness of the settlement, a sea of shattered buildings and despair, lit up with the light of the fires.

Rebel fires. Rebel lights. A glittering sea of them, moving slowly across the ruins, congealing around the settlement, cutting it off from the land beyond.

His lip curled. If the reports coming in were true, many tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands were gathering out there. Many hundreds of knightmares had already been counted, and there could very well be more.

But one of them was not present. The worst of all, the prince of lies, the bringer of chaos and destruction. Only Zero himself had yet to appear.

He turned away from the window, staring back at the scene of barely-organised chaos that was the command centre. Uniformed men and women milled about, their colour-coded uniforms marking their place in the twin hierarchies – military and civilian – of Britannian society.

The most numerous were the subalterns in blue, seated at work stations or running back and forth with reports or requests for information. The blue indicated that they came from the knightly and gentry classes, the loosely-defined middle stratum of Britannian society. There was also an officer in a pale grey version of the same uniform, its colour marking him as a noble, and holding a senior field rank. He was currently bellowing at a luckless subaltern who looked fresh out of the academy, demanding to know when his unit would be resupplied.

Around the map tables were staff officers of the Royal Guard, and these too were marked by their birth. Some of them, those doing most of the running around, were Warrant Officers dressed in long, dark grey coats. The colour marked them as commoners, while their crimson cap bands and short capes – identical to those worn by the Imperial Guardsmen back in Pendragon – marked them as Royal Guards. Like the grim-faced guardsmen flanking the doors, and who had accompanied Princess Euphemia to the SAR, they had once served the late Prince Clovis, and after his death had entered the service of Princess Cornelia.

Those standing around the tables were Cornelia's own staff officers. Their uniforms were maroon-red, the same shade as the guardsmen on the doors, but their style was very different; harking back to an older, more romantic age. Instead of the usual flat caps, they wore black kepi with crimson stripes, and their trousers were white.

So many uniforms. So much colour. So much chaos. All because _she _was not there.

His heart ached. General Darlton could have put things in order. He would have barked and bellowed, and that would have brought them into line, be they commoner or gentry, knight or noble. But he could not, for he was still on the _Avalon_, fighting for his life.

He glanced towards the doors, half-expecting his Princess to come striding through and take command. But she would not. No one had seen her for several hours, not since the news of Princess Euphemia's death had arrived. She had locked herself in her sister's rooms, and none dared go near her; not the servants, not her knights, not even the settlement officials. Nor him.

It was his responsibility, his burden. He had to hold things together, for all their sakes.

That colonel was still barking and snapping. He was tired of it.

"Lord Crane!" he barked, striding towards the grey-clad officer. Colonel the Lord Jonathan Hunter turned to glare at him, only faltering a little when he saw Gilbert's purple-red coat, and its gold frogging. He might only be a knight, but he was Princess Cornelia's own Knight-Champion. It was a brave or foolish officer who defied him lightly.

"Sir Gilbert," Hunter growled. "My regiment is in need of additional ammunition and energy fillers. I have been waiting to receive them for three hours."

Gilbert resisted the urge to snap at the man. Hunter was a capable soldier, but his mechanised infantry regiment numbered a little over two thousand men. There were at least eleven other such regiments currently stationed in the settlement as far as he could remember; eleven colonels in much the same situation as Hunter. Yet they were down there with their units, not haranguing young subalterns in no position to meet their demands.

"I am aware of that, my lord," he said, forcing himself to speak politely. "All units are being resupplied. Your requisitions will arrive in due time."

"Due time!?" barked Hunter. "The enemy could be upon us at any moment! My men had to fight their way clear of Isesaki! My APCs and assault guns have no energy fillers, and my infantry are short of ammunition! What use will they be without supplies?"

"You will have your supplies, my lord" insisted Gilbert. "I entreat you to be patient."

"Patient!?" Hunter bellowed. The young subaltern let out a shriek, and heads turned to face them. "You have the gall to…!"

"Enough!"

That voice. That voice he knew so well.

The main doors were open. The guardsmen to either side snapped to attention as Princess Cornelia strode into the command centre. Gilbert saw her eyes, and his heart leapt.

How magnificent she was, even then. Her purple hair, so much like her mother's, still elegantly curled in spite of everything. Her purple eyes, like her father's,

"Lord Hunter." Cornelia strode towards the colonel, who had remembered himself in time to salute. "What are you doing here?"

"Your highness!" Hunter barely controlled the fury that had been about to erupt a moment ago. "My troops have been waiting three hours for supplies!"

"They'll wait three hours more if I deem it appropriate!" barked Cornelia, making him jump. "Get back to your unit!"

Hunter saluted again, and strode out of the command centre; as quickly as he could without actually running.

"Good, now we can get on with things." Cornelia turned back to Gilbert, her purple hair bouncing with the movement. There was a hint of strain behind her voice, and her eyes were tinged with red. But still they shone, shone like he remembered.

"Sir Gilbert, what news of General Darlton?"

"Aboard the _Avalon_, your highness," he replied. "His condition is serious, but stable."

"I see."

The light in her eyes flickered. It was not what she had wanted to hear, and not just because she valued Andreas Darlton as a subordinate. He had been one of her mother's household guards, and had become a second father to her; indeed more of a father than the one who sired her.

"What of the enemy?" She turned to her staff officers. "What forces oppose us?"

It took the staff officers a moment to gather themselves.

"Current estimate is around eighty thousand rebel fighters massing around the settlement, with more on the way" said Major Armin Tallis. "They're using an array of civilian vehicles. Their heavy weaponry is primarily truck-mounted mortars and rocket launchers, along with some assault guns captured from us. There are also six armoured trains; four equipped for direct action, two for artillery. We've also counted around two thousand knightmares."

"Quite formidable," mused Cornelia. "Any sign of Zero?"

"Not as yet, your highness."

Cornelia stepped up to the map table, her officers stepping aside to make room. Gilbert stood at her shoulder, looking down at the map. The enemy forces formed a broad crescent from north to south, with a few units moving to the east side; those units identified marked with red icons, those not identified with red dots. He was not much surprised, for the river that marked the settlement's eastern flank would be a tricky obstacle. Far easier to attack over dry land.

"What forces do we have?" she asked.

"We have twelve mechanised infantry regiments at full strength or close, reinforced with stragglers" replied Tallis. "Aside from your highness' knights, we have thirty knightmare squadrons. We also have one gunship squadron at full strength."

Twelve regiments, thirty knightmare squadrons, and four gunship squadrons. That made for twenty four thousand troops or thereabouts, over four hundred _Caliburn _assault guns, over one thousand two hundred _Sutherland _and _Glasgow _knightmares, and twelve _Raven_ VTOL gunships.

Anywhere else, any time else, he would have called it a formidable force. But here and now, trapped in the settlement like tigers in a pit, they seemed so very few.

"Can we get any air support from the other bases?"

"All of our bases are under heavy attack except Torashima. They offer two bomber squadrons."

Cornelia stared down at the map, her eyes cold and hard. Gilbert could only stand and wait, wondering what was going through her mind.

"Keep four regiments and half the knightmares as a mobile reserve in the government district," she ordered. "Of the rest, deploy the remaining knightmares to the perimeter, and the infantry evenly around the settlement. Position the fire support battalions here, here, and here."

She pointed at the map to illustrate her meaning, indicating several main roads and a few open areas. Clearly she meant them to fire, but also to move around easily.

"Pay particular attention to the perimeter towers," she went on. "The enemy knightmares can shift for themselves, but the infantry will need to infiltrate the towers in order to reach street level. Also, I want Torashima's bombers to bombard the enemy's rear echelon." She drew her finger across the outermost edge of the crimson crescent. "Time the attack for just after his main assault has begun."

"Yes your highness!"

As Tallis and his fellow staff officers set to work, Cornelia turned to face Gilbert.

"Come then, knight of mine," she said. "Let's don armour."

* * *

"Hear me Britannia! This is Zero! A rebel against those who abuse their power! We will wait until midnight! You have until then to surrender to me! This is your one and only warning! Heed it!"

Lelouch switched off the comm.

From his vantage point aboard the _Gawain,_ high above the city, he could see it all. The great monolith of the settlement, illuminated in crimson light. And amid the ruins of Tokyo's suburbs, the army gathering to destroy it.

His army. The army _he _had raised, _he _had inspired. The army that would capture Tokyo settlement, and liberate Japan from Britannian tyranny. The army that would bring his ardent wish a little closer to fruition.

But for all that, the satisfaction he felt was not what he had thought it would be. It was bland, tepid, pale, compared to what he had dreamed of. He had thought it would be a moment of joy, of righteous exultation. He had thought he would feel like a god, a god of vengeance bringing the hammer of justice down upon the corrupt and cruel empire he had despised for half his life.

But that wasn't how he felt. He felt only the grim satisfaction of success, an artisan's pride in a job well done. It was not a common man, after all, who could rouse an entire nation to homicidal fury, and persuade them to fight and die according to a design he alone had envisaged and incubated. It was not even a rare man who could have prepared the secret weapon now hiding within Tokyo Settlement, ready to activate itself at the stroke of midnight.

But nothing more, not now. Not after what this moment had cost him.

"_Euphie..._"

"You're being morbid again," commented CC, from the pilot's station below him.

"If I'm morbid," he replied, "it's only because morbidity is appropriate for this situation."

"Because of Euphemia?"

Had it been anyone else, he might have snapped a retort. But in her case there was no point. He still had no idea how, and it annoyed him to no end, but she knew him too well.

"I didn't want this," he said, staring out at the settlement. "I didn't want any of this.

"That's what they all say."

"It's the truth."

CC didn't reply. She didn't even look up. She didn't have to.

"I didn't want to hurt her," he went on, a lump rising in his throat. "I didn't want her involved in this. If only she had…"

His gloved hand clenched into a fist. Why couldn't she have stayed out of it? Why did she have to get involved? What did she have to come up with that stupid SAR plan and ruin everything?

Why did she force him to dream of killing her?

"And Cornelia?" CC asked, in the same unfeeling tone. "Did you want to kill her?"

Lelouch felt his heart sink a little more. He hadn't been all that close to Cornelia, certainly not half so much as to her younger sister. But he had loved her, and maybe admired her a little, just as he had with Clovis. But like Clovis she had crossed a line, that day in Saitama Ghetto, when her troops had rounded up the NAC lackeys in charge of running the place and gunned them all down; for no more crime than having turned a blind eye to the terrorists operating in their midst. It was all perfectly legal under Britannian law, and few Japanese had complained about much. Considering what the Yamato Alliance and plenty of NAC types had gotten up to, they probably saw it as karmic justice.

But that didn't make it right. She was, by any reasonable standard, a if she was, where did that leave him? Where did that leave others who had done far worse, yet had gone unpunished because they had violated no law, or because they happened to be on the winning side?

Was _he _any better? Could he stand above her, after what he had unleashed? After what his followers were almost certainly doing, all across Japan, at that very moment?

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Whatever I wanted, I have no choice now. Either she dies tonight, or I do."

"I see," CC mused. "Convenient, I suppose."

Lelouch suppressed an urge to snap at her. He wasn't in the mood.

He glanced at the clock. 11:47. Thirteen minutes left before midnight. Thirteen minutes before his masterpiece, his ultimate strategy, was finally revealed.

His phone beeped.

For a few moments he just sat there, not believing what he was hearing, until he finally gathered himself enough to grab the phone from his pocket and see who was calling her.

EUPHEMIA

No. It wasn't possible. It _couldn't _be!

Unless…

"Yes?" He raised the phone to his ear, his stomach churning.

"Lelouch…" It was Suzaku. "Are you at the school?"

Lelouch felt his blood run cold. Why him? Why did it have to be him? And why now?

"No, but I will be soon."

"I called because there's something I want you to tell everyone for me."

"And what would that be?"

"The sky. Make sure no one looks up at the sky."

Lelouch felt the lump in his throat grow larger. This wasn't the Suzaku he knew. The voice was lifeless, empty, the voice of a man who had lost everything, even his soul.

"Lelouch…is there someone you could hate so much that you could kill them?"

Lelouch gulped, trying to drive down the lump. It hurt so much!

"Yes, there is."

"I used to think that such thinking was wrong," Suzaku went on. "But now…hate is all I have left."

"Embrace your hate," Lelouch said, feeling sick as he said it. "It will keep you alive, when everything else is lost, and all others have deserted you. It worked for me, for all these years."

"For Nunnally's sake?"

"Yes." It was true enough, a truth that only Suzaku truly understood.

"Thank you."

"Don't worry about it." In spite of everything, he smiled. "We're friends, right?"

"Yes. These past seven years."

"Goodbye, and good luck."

He heard the line go dead, and lowered the phone.

"Suzaku…forgive me…"

He had no tears left to shed. Only that horrible, soul-draining remorse that had hovered over him like a dark cloud ever since he had learned of Euphemia's death. Suzaku's heart was finally broken, and _he _had broken it.

"Don't blame yourself," CC said. "Even I couldn't have foreseen it. Besides, that sniper made his own choice."

He wanted to believe it. He wanted to cling to that technicality; that everything would have been all right if Kyosuke Tenryo had only obeyed orders. But he couldn't.

He glanced at the clock again. 11:59. He looked out at the city, still so strangely serene.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. He keyed for the zoom function, and zoomed in. A line of knightmares had formed up on the outer edge of the plateau. His attention fell on one particular group, their armour purple rather than the usual blue, long black capes hanging from their pauldrons.

It was her. She was down there, as he knew she would be. Cornelia had come out in person to lead her knights to victory. She was never going to do otherwise.

12:00

Unable to stop himself, Lelouch stared at the space where the purple knightmares stood, straining his eyes for the first signs. Had his plan worked? Had days of tracking down person after person and planting a specific command – a command he had spent days carefully formulating – paid off? Or had something gone wrong?

Then he saw it. The ground under their feet began to wobble, and then move. An entire surface plate tipped up, then another, and another. Lelouch stared, unable to tear his eyes away, as knightmares, soldiers, assault guns and APCs toppled into the darkness. The calamity spread, more and more plates tipping up and falling away, pillar after pillar toppling over. Above, mighty skyscrapers began to lean over, their windows shattering, wreathing their mighty shapes in glittering clouds as they fell.

It had worked. It had worked after all. In his mind's eye Lelouch could see his victims at work; seated at their stations, furiously typing, their eyes blank as Geass overrode their minds. He could hear the banging and shouting as frantic soldiers, summoned by the security alerts, tried to force their way in. He could see them breaking down the doors, barging in with guns blazing, his victims crumpling over their keyboards, dying at the hands of their own protectors, without ever knowing why.

One alone could not have done it; not without getting caught, his work overridden by the supervisors. It had taken many of them, dozens of them, carefully identified and tracked down. All of them working together, overriding the failsafes, activating the emergency purge command for dozens upon dozens of plateau segments. Such a thing could never have been foreseen, never planned for, never countered.

Lelouch kept on watching, entranced, as the plateau collapsed. The effect spread out from the edge, each segment purging and collapsing exactly as he had planned. A great indent spread from the rim towards the government bureau, as if a giant's foot were slowing driving down upon it. Smoke and dust billowed in clouds, concealing the catastrophe, even as tower after tower toppled into it, shattering into thousands of pieces.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The dust began to clear, and Lelouch could see the fruit of his labour. A kilometre-wide bite had been taken out of the once-pristine plateau, a great mound of rubble forming a rough incline from the ground up to street level. A ramp for his rebels.

Lelouch keyed the comm. Open band.

"Friends!" he bellowed. "Behold the wages of tyranny! Our enemies had the chance to surrender, but they refused it! But now their defences are shattered, and the gates of freedom are thrown wide!"

A quick pause to catch his breath, and driven down the lump still lingering in his throat.

"We are not so many as I had intended, nor so mighty! But if our minds are clear, and our hearts are true, by this sign we will conquer! Go now! Look to your arms and your leaders! The banners are raised! Follow them, to freedom!"

Without waiting to see their response, he keyed for the Black Knights own channel. Time to get things moving.

"All commands! Begin the attack!" he ordered. "Tohdoh, lead the knightmares up the incline, be ready for heavy resistance. Special Forces, move up behind the knightmares and infiltrate at ground level. Artillery, focus on the ground level walls at these points."

He tapped at his Druid system keyboard, marking out the locations he intended and transmitting them to his subordinates. The lowermost level of plateau segments was further reinforced by a thick wall of reinforced concrete, stretching right around the rim of the plateau at ground level. The falling segments had crushed the wall sections underneath them, but the rest remained intact.

"Once the walls are breached, the first wave will infiltrate, make their way to street level, and secure their pre-assigned objectives. Artillery will stand by to support friendly units at street level."

A chorus of affirmatives followed. It wasn't exactly the plan he had worked out with them – he had dared not reveal his trick with the plateau segments – but they seemed to understand what was needed.

Far below, he could see the tiny shapes of knightmares leaping from their hiding places and racing across the open ground towards the incline. Even through the _Gawain_'s armour plating, he could hear the distant crack-crack as the artillery trains opened fire. An instant later, he saw the shots flash into the walls, and heard the thump of the impacts, clouds of dust billowing all around.

It was on. It was happening. The final stage was underway.

"_Turn a blind eye Euphie. Turn a blind eye._"

* * *

**And here's this chapter.**

**This proved a real challenge, for many different reasons. I knew what I had to do with this chapter, but I confess I was reluctant to have to go over such well-trodden ground. In my experience following the canon too closely is a good way to drive away readers; who tend to want something new. Fortunately, Wing Zero Alpha was willing to advise me; he suggested that it might be made more interesting by covering the battle in greater detail. It would mean this opening arc taking longer than I expected, but if it means I can tell a better story, I can live with that. **

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to the terror of indecision. _

_Maimonides_

_**Tokyo Settlement **_**_Area 11, May 2017_**

It was on.

For once, in what felt like a very long time, Kyoshiroh Tohdoh knew precisely what he had to do. There were no more complexities, no more complications, no more nagging doubts. Only a clear objective, and the means to achieve it.

"All squadrons! Advance up the incline and secure the edge at street level! Follow me!"

He couldn't not lead the advance. He had not led from the rear since Itsukushima, and had vowed never to do so again.

With a roll and click of his joystick rollerball, he selected and drew the enormous Brake Sword sheathed over his custom Gekka's back. Like his black-armoured knightmare, it was one of a kind; its saw-toothed blade longer than any other. And like his knightmare, it was a weapon he could wield to perfection.

He pushed down the pedals, and his Gekka leapt from its hiding place; amid the ruins of a tall skyscraper. It landed lightly, speeding across the barren ground that divided the ghetto from the foot of the settlement plateau, its long tails of red hair wafting like banners in the wind. Glancing at his rear-view screen, and his tactical map, he could see friendly knightmares falling in behind him, swarming like so many hornets.

A great many hornets. All eight of the Black Knights knightmare squadrons had deployed, each of twelve, with ten more squadrons from other rebel units following close behind. Over two hundred knightmares, with over two thousand more massing behind, waiting for their turn.

Before him was the bottom of the incline; a great field of debris two kilometres across, narrowing to a point at street level far above. To either side of the bottom stood the tall, thick concrete walls that barred access to the plateau's underside. Smoke and dust hovered around them, and for a moment Kyoshiroh could see the cracks and craters in the once-smooth concrete, where the artillery shells had struck. An instant later they were gone, vanished in a flash of light, replaced by a fresh cloud of dust; a loud crump reverberating over the empty ground towards him.

The Britannians would surely realise their intent; to penetrate the walls, and send infantry swarming up the maintenance stairways to secure the cargo elevators. They would send troops to guard the elevators, and the stairways and corridors; the great warren of tunnels that ran throughout the plateau, allowing the complex honeycomb structure to be maintained. The battles in those tunnels would be hellish.

So it was up to him to do his part. By forcing his way up the incline, he became the primary threat, the main focus of their attention. They would fixate on him, throw all they had at him, and with any luck forget about the others until it was too late.

With any luck.

All at once, he reached the bottom of the incline. Whereas it had looked reasonably smooth from a distance, up close he saw the truth. A tangled, twisted mass of rubble, undulating its way up to street level. This was going to be tricky.

He slowed, as he drew up to a jagged slab of concrete with steel cables sticking out of it like frizzy hairs, then jumped. He landed easily, pausing a moment to let those following him catch up. Most managed the jump, but some stumbled and wobbled, and a few even used their Slash Harkens.

His lip curled. There were a lot of new pilots, and plenty of experienced pilots who had nevertheless learned by doing. He couldn't expect too much, but they weren't up to standard. That would have to change, when there was time.

"Keep moving up the incline!" he ordered. "Spread out, and watch out for enemy units!"

The knightmares swarmed past him; mostly Burais but a handful of Sutherlands too, hastily resprayed and rushed into battle. He could see Zero Squadron too, the crimson shape of the Guren Nishiki at its head, a handful of Gekkas among them.

Then his dashboard buzzed. He glanced down at his screen, and saw a knightmare icon turn into a LOST icon. He looked up, and saw the flurry of movement to his left, as something emerged from the wreckage. It was a Sutherland, its blue paint stained with dust, firing desperately at the knightmares around it. One of the Burais put it down with a quick burst into its chest, blowing it apart.

But more and more were beginning to appear. Sutherlands and the odd Gloucester, dragging themselves out of the wreckage, firing or lashing out at anything within range.

Tohdoh allowed himself to smirk as he watched them go down. His pilots might have lacked polish, but they had their dander up, as the Britannians might say. This wouldn't take long.

And then he saw something else. A flash of purple in the corner of his eye. He turned, and his heart leapt as a purple shape erupted from a patch of darkness, tearing into a pair of unsuspecting Burais. One went down to the Gloucester's Shot Lancer, the other a moment later to a pair of Slash Harkens.

Tohdoh stared as more knightmares closed in around the newcomer. There was no mistaking that billowing black cape, or those long, antler-like antennae stretching out from the head.

Cornelia.

His knightmares had seen her too. Already a half-dozen were heading her way; leaping and racing over the debris, guns blazing as they drew close. More enemy knightmares appeared; mostly purple Gloucesters with the same long cloaks, but blue Sutherlands too. They fired upon his knightmares, and the Burais began to fall; blasted apart as their batteries were hit, or maimed by well-aimed bursts.

He gritted his teeth, but satisfaction and excitement were mingled with his anger. He could have expected no less from Cornelia's knights, not when their mistress was on the field.

He drove down the pedals, and charged straight at Cornelia, grasping his Brake Sword two-handed. The purple Gloucester turned to face him, and with a thought he leapt, raising his sword for an overhead strike. With a roar he brought the sword down, the whirring teeth glowing as they raced along the blade.

But Cornelia was moving, dodging out of the way as he landed, his blade cutting through empty air. He straightened up, in time to see Cornelia come about in front of him, Shot Lancer at the ready.

A flicker of instinct made him dart to the right, as the Shot Lancer fired; its head bursting from the haft and blazing towards him. He swung his sword, knocking the heavy missile away as he dodged. It spun away and exploded, the blast almost knocking him off his feet.

He recovered, but Cornelia was upon him, Stun Tonfa deployed on her right arm. The crackling maul flashed at him, so fast he could scarcely believe it. He fell back under the onslaught, dodging again, and again. He needed space to use the Break Sword, but Cornelia would give him no respite.

He jumped, the leap taking him up and back, landing on a nearby slab. Cornelia jumped after him, but he had gained the space he needed. He charged at her again, swinging his sword, forcing her to dodge. He turned, ready to strike again, only for her to vanish from sight.

In reflex he leapt back, barely avoiding a Stun Tonfa thrust to his flank. He gritted his teeth as the purple Gloucester straightened up, its Landspinners retracting. The old Splits trick; dropping down and slewing round to the side. He hadn't seen that one in a while.

Kyoshiroh straightened up, readying his sword. The Gloucester stowed its rifle, and unleashed the Stun Tonfa from its wrist, the pair crackling as the Gloucester eased into a combat stance. Kyoshiroh stared at it, imagining Cornelia's face staring back at him; those purple eyes, so determined, and so hateful.

She moved. He moved too, dropping his sword to his side and thrusting as Cornelia came on. She dodged, the blade shrieking as it sliced into her armour, then lashed out with her left Stun Tonfa. Kyoshiroh dodged, and again, jinking right and dropping back as she jabbed again and again.

She was fast. He had to keep her at a distance, wear her down so he could properly use his sword.

He leapt back and fired his Slash Harkens, the anchors whistling as they cut through the air towards her. Cornelia leapt back in turn, and fired off her own Harkens. Kyoshiroh broke left, batting the anchors away with his sword, then bringing it up to slice her in half. But again she dodged him, leaping out of his reach, his blade barely scoring her plastron.

She landed nearby, and Kyoshiroh turned to face her, teeth gritted. Frustration and exultation warred within him. The joy of the battle, and the need to finish it. The desire to take her alive, and the knowing that he could not. Whatever the outcome, this was a battle worth fighting.

The buzz of alarms cut through his focus. He glanced down at his sensor screen, and saw the contacts spreading out above him. A quick glance above, and he saw the rockets above him, a cloak of glistening stars in the night sky, ready to fall upon him.

He leapt back, letting himself fall down to the debris below, and crouched down. An instant later he felt the rockets tearing into the debris all around him, the detonations buffeting him from all sides.

He couldn't hear the noise or feel the force of it; not like that one time when he didn't have a knightmare to shield him. But it was enough to make him remember, enough to awaken that horrid, sickening _thing _inside him; that thing that wanted only to burrow into the earth and never stop.

Then it was over.

He looked up, peering over the edge of the slab; now pock-marked and scorched. Around him, his knightmares were emerging from their hiding places. He could see Cornelia, leaping up the incline towards a line of five Gloucesters, the _Saddlewaffen _rocket pods easily visible on their shoulders.

He gritted his teeth in frustration. He had been so close.

Then he glanced down at his sensor screen, and cursed himself. He had let himself be distracted by Cornelia, and the attack had stalled. Time to get things moving.

"All units, form up on me and prepare to advance!" he bellowed into the comm. "Anyone who can still fight, rally on me!"

* * *

**(X)**

Lelouch glared down the incline, as the purple and blue knightmares retreated back up towards street level.

It had been close, very close. If Tohdoh had been able to capture Cornelia there and then, it would have been all but over. But Cornelia was clearly not going to fall _that _easily.

His HUD beeped. He looked, and saw six new contacts emerge from behind the settlement buildings and move towards the top of the incline. He didn't need his IFF system to tell him what they were; with their narrow, almost bird-like fuselages, twin jet engines above the tails, and stubby wings from which rocket pods hung, ready to fire.

AV-01E _Raven_; Britannia's VTOL gunship, and beyond doubt the latest model. Cornelia never settled for less than the best if she could avoid it. And now there were six of them moving into position above the incline.

Lelouch's lip curled. The obvious thing to do was fly down and take them out, but he could see more Britannian forces moving into position around the incline. There were _Caliburn _assault guns, and _Morrdure _APCs, and plenty of knightmares too; more than enough firepower to make interception a risky business. He would have to time this just right.

He reached for the comm panel. The airwaves around him were thick with jamming, but the _Gawain_'s Druid system was equal to the task.

Then it beeped; indicating a message from an unknown recipient. Lelouch frowned, and hesitated. A simple comm connection couldn't carry a virus, and the Druid system was well protected against such things. But if it was from the Black Knights, it would carry one of their recognition codes; the codes he himself had formulated.

The beeping continued, and Lelouch let out a sigh and pressed the button.

"Who is this?" he demanded, irritably.

"A friend," came the reply, "watching you from nearby."

The voice brought Lelouch up short. It spoke in Japanese, Japanese that was technically perfect, better even than his own. But there was something not quite right about it.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To warn you," replied the voice. "There are two flights of bombers approaching you from the south; twenty-four in all. Their vector suggests low-altitude bombing of your rear positions. I recommend that you act immediately."

Lelouch's brow furrowed. Mysterious phone calls with possibly useful information were supposed to be _his _calling card.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you can't afford to take that risk."

The message ended. Lelouch gritted his teeth as his instincts warred for dominance. There was no immediate reason to believe a word this mystery person was saying, and if he went charging off to the south, Tohdoh would have no air support; and without the _Gawain_'s comms to act as a booster, no way of communicating with Ougi in the rear either.

But if it was true, his was the only unit capable of stopping those bombers. And he knew, only too well, what those bombers could do if they had a clear run.

The mystery man was right. He could not afford the risk.

He keyed for Tohdoh, and waited for the comm to connect.

"Tohdoh, we have a problem. I've had a report of enemy bombers inbound from the south. I have to go and intercept them. There are six gunships inbound on your position. Get ready."

He paused a moment, his stomach churning with embarrassment and anger. The thought of having to abandon Tohdoh and his troops like this infuriated him, but there was no choice. He could only hope the older man would understand.

"Understood Zero, we can handle them. Stop those bombers."

"I'll be back soon. Hold out until then."

He ended the call. As CC took the hint and banked the _Gawain _away, he felt a twinge of guilt, and more than a twinge. He supposed he should call Kallen too, but every second was precious; and Tohdoh knew what he was doing.

"You believe that fellow?" asked CC, as they levelled off and accelerated away to the south.

"I'm not sure," Lelouch replied. "But he's right; it's a chance I have to take."

"He wasn't Japanese, you know."

"So I suspect."

And he did. Languages were only a passing interest of his, one of several, but he knew enough to notice things. The mystery caller's Japanese was technically perfect, but so was his own, and while no Japanese had any trouble understanding him, even his own Black Knights had never taken him for one of them. As Ougi himself had awkwardly explained, it was his too-perfect Japanese that had given him away.

"_It's like…when you've spoken a language all your life, you just speak it in a way that's natural to you, and you don't notice. But when you learn it from scratch, you learn it from books. Even if you get a lot of exposure and practice, it's still noticeable sometimes."_

So it was with this one. This one sounded a bit more natural, but there had still be something off about it; his accent perhaps, or just little hints here and there.

"Anyway, keep us on this course. I'm switching to active scanning."

He keyed for the Factsphere, and set it to active scanning. The miniature radar set into the _Gawain_'s head set to work.

An instant later, the HUD began beeping. Lelouch looked down at the screen, and his chest tightened to see large aircraft contacts just out of sight. Twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen….twenty-four.

The caller had been right. Twenty-four contacts inbound, all showing Britannian transponder codes.

Lelouch gritted his teeth. They were coming in hard and fast, and would reach his rear positions in minutes. He had one chance to stop them.

"Bring us into range," he ordered CC. "We have to take them out quickly."

He keyed for the two Hadron Cannons set into the _Gawain_'s shoulders. They had more than enough firepower to take down those bombers, but the range wasn't all that great - Rakshata had reckoned five kilometres max – and they would drain his energy filler rapidly. This was going to take some finesse.

He could see them now; little dots barely visible against the night sky, marked out by red targeting reticules on his screen, growing slowly but surely into shapes as they drew closer. Britannian ATC-1C _Albatross_ transports, with their broad fuselages and wide, forward sweeping wings, flying in four chevrons of six; two in front and below, two above and behind. Anything the first two missed, the latter two would mop up.

It was a plane he knew well. The first of the A model had come out in 2009, and one of them had been tasked with carrying himself and Nunnally to Japan as hostages; to a bitter exile, and the happiest time of his life. He had seem them again a year later, when Britannia had attacked and conquered Japan. He had seen them overhead, firing missiles from their wing pods, their rear hatches opening to unleash clouds of bombs, or swarms of paratroopers, or supply crates.

They were drawing closer. He could see their shapes now, as the metres ticked down. He would get one shot at this…

He squeezed the triggers. Twin streams of charged particles, like captured bolts of lightning, erupted from the _Gawain_'s shoulders. The beams lanced across the darkness, striking the outermost bomber of the nearest chevron. Lelouch let it hold a moment, then eased the triggers left, drawing the beams across the formation to the next bomber. As he did so, the bomber blew apart, hurling blazing wreckage across the sky. On and on he drew the beams, the hapless bombers exploding in its wake as the beams sliced through their armour, detonating fuel and cargo bays packed with bombs.

It was done. One flight down; six clouds of burning debris; twenty-four men dead before they even realised what was happening.

He turned to the other forward chevron. The flight was responding, the bombers breaking apart as they drew close. One heeled over, its flank guns spitting streams of tracer at the _Gawain_. CC evaded, the _Gawain _leaping and jinking through the sky as Lelouch targeted the scattering bombers. He fired, blowing one of them apart, then another, and another; the beams zig-zagging across the sky as he tried to keep up with the evading bombers amid CC's dodging.

All gone. Six more bombers, twenty-four more unfortunates sent to an early grave.

He turned, as CC dodged ever more frantically. The rearmost two chevrons were closing in fast, the bombers splitting up and down while maintaining their course; a bracketing formation, designed to wear him down more easily. Lelouch fired, taking down yet another bomber, but already the formation was breaking up, his shots going wide before he managed to fix on one of them, taking down a second.

He snarled with mingled frustration and panic as the bombers shot past him. Ten more to go, and their goal was already in sight.

As CC brought the _Gawain _around hard, Lelouch watched the bombers. They were reforming into a new formation, this time much further apart, as they edged back into their previous vector. Clearly they meant to run across his rear echelon from south to north, catching as much of his forces as possible. If even one of them managed to drop its bombs, it would be a disaster.

And yet…if he could just…

"After them! Straight down the middle!"

CC complied, and the _Gawain _accelerated, closing the distance fast. Lelouch lined up the Hadron Cannons and fired, his first shot tearing through the centremost bomber and blowing it apart, then sliding neatly onto its nearest neighbour before it could evade. Two down, but eight remained, splitting apart to avoid him. If he could just drive them further away, make them lose their vector.

He turned right and fired again, the first shot missing as CC jinked, dodging the fire from the bombers. He fired again, and again, finally shearing off his target's left wing, sending it spiralling down towards the dark morass of the ghetto bellow. With no time to finish it off, he turned to another, his shot blasting through the fuselage at close range; so close that for an instant he could see the crew, lit up as if by an x-ray machine. As the bomber blew apart, he saw the other two banking hard, their course taking them away and over the bay; and well off their vector.

"Hard left, now!"

The _Gawain _turned, and four more bombers were in sight, trying to bank back onto their attack vector. Lelouch lined up on the nearest, and squeezed the triggers, blasting it out of the sky. The other three heeled over, letting their flank guns target him. He struggled to line up another target as CC jinked about. He felt the thud and shudder as rounds struck the _Gawain. _

He fired again, and again, missing the nearest but hitting the furthest. He snarled in frustration as the other two banked towards him; goaded back onto their vector instead of away from it. He fired, the shot shearing one of them in half, its wreckage smashing into a ruined skyscraper on the edge of the settlement. His heart pounding, he lined up on the last one, and jammed down the triggers.

Nothing. Just a warning buzzer, and a panoply of red lights.

Lelouch's heart dropped out of his chest as the bomber opened fire, a stream of stand-off missiles leaping from its wing pods and lancing down into the ghetto. He could see the explosions, his heart clenching at the thought of the damage, of the deaths. But worse to come, as he saw the bomber's rear hatch opening. He could see the bomb racks inside, the black cylinders ready to be dropped.

He had no choice.

"CC! Get in close!"

"Right!"

CC accelerated, so hard that Lelouch was jammed back into his seat. He forced himself to move, to key for the Slash Harkens built into the _Gawain_'s fingers. Closer, closer, closer. He could see flashing lights in the cargo hold, the bomb racks unlocking, ready to drop.

He fired, the Slash Harkens rushing out from the _Gawain_'s fingers and smashing into the left wing. CC pulled up hard, an the _Gawain _leapt skyward, the high-tension cables yanking at the bomber's wing; so hard that Lelouch could hear the groan and screech of twisting metal.

And then a great _crank_, as the wing bent out of shape. The bomber heeled hard over, spiralling down into the darkness of the ghetto, and smashed into a drunkenly-leaning skyscraper. The explosion lit up the ghetto, and for an instant Lelouch could see running figures and even vehicles.

How many had been lost? How many had he failed to save?

"Lelouch! Last two!"

He remembered. He looked towards the bay, and saw the last two bombers; coming in fast over the settlement. Gunfire leapt from the ghetto as the fighters on the ground saw the threat, and Lelouch's heart leapt as he saw missiles fly up from the darkness. But the bombers' chin guns were ready, and lines of tracer flicked from one to the other; shooting them down.

It wasn't enough. It could _never _be enough. If only there had been more time! If only they could have had the AA units he had wanted!

"CC! Intercept!"

As CC obeyed, Lelouch turned his attention to his HUD. There had been some damage to the frame, but the red lights were mostly to do with the Hadron Cannons. They were overheating, and the failsafes had shut them down. From the looks of it, the damage might be worse than that.

It was as Rakshata had warned him. The _Gawain _was just too overpowered, and he'd been working it hard that night. Without its firepower, they couldn't have gotten through Yokohama half so quickly. But now it had hit its limit.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, dialling down the firepower and beam width. Maybe a couple of low-powered shots would do it. It was all he had left.

They were within range. The bombers were accelerating, their engines glowing hot as they raced through the sky, braving the ever-growing storm of ground fire. Lelouch drew a bead on the nearest bomber, lining up the near-dying Hadron Cannons, praying to a God he had never really believed in that what little he had would be enough.

He fired. The beam flew, struck the bomber on the flank, and for a moment Lelouch feared he had failed. Then he saw the glow of melting metal as the beam tore through, and an instant later the bomber was gone in a flash of light, as the beams detonated its bomb load.

No time to celebrate. One bomber left, diving in on its final run, even as ground fire pitted and scarred its armoured fuselage. Warning buzzers screeched, but Lelouch ignored them. He had one chance left; one chance to stop it.

He fired. He saw the beam fly, and then it was gone, the failsafe buzzer squawking in his ears. The beam struck the wing, making it glow. For what seemed like an eternity, Lelouch watched, and hoped.

The wing came away, shearing off and spinning down into the ghetto. The bomber heeled over, spinning around and around as it plunged down into the ghetto. It struck one of the broken skyscrapers, plunging through it in a cloud of debris, then rammed hard into the ground, and exploded a new-born star.

Lelouch slumped back in his seat, breathing hard. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so tired, so utterly _drained_. Not even when he'd been forced to attend gym class had he felt quite so exhausted.

"Our battery's almost dead," CC spoke up. "We have to land soon."

"Head over to Inoue," Lelouch managed to reply. "I'll call in." He keyed for Ougi, at rear echelon command.

"Ougi, what's the situation?"

"We've taken some damage, but we're okay," Ougi replied, near breathless. "Zero, that was _amazing_! People are cheering!"

"What about Tohdoh?" Lelouch asked testily. He was in no mood for adulation. "What's the situation on the incline?"

"We got all the gunships, but Tohdoh had to fall back," Ougi went on, sounding a little deflated. "He made it back to start position, and he's ready to go again on your order."

Lelouch forced himself not to curse. He knew there had been no other way, but the casualties would have to have been heavy to have forced Tohdoh to fall back.

And what of Kallen?

"Did you see Kallen there?" he asked, a hint of worry slipping into his tone. "Did she make it out?"

"I haven't seen her." Ougi sounded worried too. "None of Zero squadron. They might have slipped into the plateau."

Lelouch took a moment to master himself. He could not let himself worry, not ever for Kallen.

"I'm coming in. My Energy Filler is low, and the Hadron Cannons are acting up. If Rakshata's around, send her and her team to Inoue. In the meantime, order the second wave units to their start positions, and put all reserves on alert."

"Understood, Zero."

* * *

**(X)**

_**Sub-basement, Precinct 5 Civil Maintenance Building, Tokyo Settlement**_

Kento Sugiyama snarled a curse.

He crouched behind an equipment crate, his ears ringing with the sounds of gunfire. He could see a half-dozen of his fellow rebels nearby; a mix of Black Knights in their signature black jackets, and green-clad JLF leftovers. Every so often they popped up and squeezed off a burst, only to drop down again when enemy fire came their way.

The storage bay in which they were fighting was quite large; tall enough for a knightmare to stand up in, and filled with racks of equipment and large vehicles. Kento knew that they were all used to maintain the enormous segments that made up the settlement plateau; but beyond that, he had little or no notion what most of them were, or what they were used for. What mattered was that they were obstacles, and cover, in and around which he was trying to kill Britannians; and Britannians were trying to kill him.

He could see one of them peering out from behind an enormous six-wheeled vehicle that looked vaguely like a cherrypicker; rifle at the ready. He squeezed off a shot in Kento's direction, then dropped back out of sight as bullets bounced off the cherrypicker's heavy flank.

So it had gone on, for what felt like forever. A half-dozen of his men were lying dead or dying on the floor around the bay; testament to failed outflanking attempts.

Kento gritted his teeth, anger and frustration roiling inside him, making him want to throw himself over the barricade and charge at the Britannians; even if it would only get him killed.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. He spun round, bringing up his rifle, and only barely stopped himself from shooting. It was Takeo Kurata and Hitoshi Furata, two of his own, squatting behind him.

"Did you get them?" he asked. Kurata nodded, holding up two grenades. Kento could see that his and Furata's belts were packed with them. He took the two grenades, and gestured at the others. Both nodded in understanding, and began crawling along the line, distributing the grenades. He waited for another of his fellow Black Knights, Akira Yanagida, to glance his way, then gestured at him to come close.

"I'm going for the left!" he yelled, leaning in close so that Yanagida could hear him over the gunfire. "Get Kuribayashi!"

Yanagida nodded, and crawled back to pat Shino Kuribayashi, a young woman in JLF green, on the shoulder. Kento glanced to his left, along the flank of the cherrypicker until it disappeared behind a rack packed with equipment crates. He didn't like not being able to see down there, but he didn't have an alternative.

He glanced back, and saw Yanagida and Kuribayashi squatting there, eyes fixed on him. They were as different as soldiers on the same side could be. Yanagida was a man like himself, a resistance fighter hardened by survival, his black jacket open at the front, clutching a black market SMG that worked reasonably well but looked like a toy. Kuribayashi had come up through the military discipline and traditions of the Japan Liberation Front; evidenced by the green pre-war army uniform they had given her. Her weapon was a Chinese-made _Hong Long _rifle, with bayonet attached.

"We're going round the back, over there," he jabbed towards the rear of the bay. "Me and Kuribayashi first. Grenade first, then we go in hard. Right?"

Both nodded. He supposed he could have used the hand signals in that manual Zero had given him, but he wasn't sure how many people understood them, and he didn't have time to find out.

"All right!" He leaned past them, and made the _Grenade _gesture at Kinoshita; whom he knew understood it. Kinoshita gave the _Understood _gesture, pulled out one of his new grenades, and threw it straight at the front of the cherrypicker. Kento crouched down, and counted down the seconds, until he heard the blast.

Then he was moving, around the crates and down the cherrypicker's flank towards the back of the bay. He glanced round the corner, and mercifully no one was there. He could hear the sounds of running feet, as the Britannian soldiers behind the cherrypicker moved in to replace whoever had died in that grenade blast.

So far, so good. If they thought he was coming that way, and just being a little slow…

He glanced back one last time, making sure Yanagida and Kuribayashi were there. Then he pulled a grenade from his belt, popped the pin with his thumb, waited one second, then two, and tossed it round the corner. He heard the grenade clink on the concrete floor, heard yells of surprise, and then the _crump _as it detonated.

He darted round the corner, SMG at the ready. He saw a grey-clad Britannian soldier at the front end of the cherrypicker, turning and raising his rifle. Kento fired, sending a quick burst into his chest and throwing him back. Kuribayashi let out a feral shriek as she dashed past him, firing quick, disciplined bursts at two more soldiers emerging from behind an equipment rank. One fell back, his plastron blasted open, and Kuribayashi leapt at the other, driving her bayonet into his neck. With only grey fibre-cloth to protect it, the blade slid through, and the soldier fell back, gurgling horribly.

Kento dashed along the cherrypicker's flank, far enough to see past the equipment rack. Lightning flashed through his veins as he saw two more enemy soldiers come dashing in through an open door, levelling their rifles at the exposed Kuribayashi. He brought up his SMG, firing desperately. One soldier fell and the other fired, barely missing Kuribayashi as she realised the danger and darted back behind the rack. He heard a burst of gunfire, and the second soldier fell.

It took Kento's frazzled mind a moment to realise that it was Yanagida who had fired.

"Grenade!" he yelled, pulling the second grenade from his belt and hurling it out through the open doorway. A crump, and the cries of dying men.

"Get up here! Now!" he bellowed. He heard footsteps, and Yoshida emerged from around the cherrypicker, followed by the others. Kuribayashi did a quick check behind the equipment rack, but there was no one left.

"Barricade here!" Kento jabbed his finger at the gap between the cherrypicker and the equipment rack. Two of his fighters complied, grabbing a crate from the rack and lugging it into position.

"Yoshida, go and see if anyone else has made it! Get them in here!"

"Right!" Yoshida hurried back the way he came.

Kento took stock. In front of him was the big main door, which allowed the cherrypicker to move out into the maintenance tunnel, or straight across to the cargo elevator. The small door, through which the Britannians had been entering, was right next to it. Each of the equipment bays he had fought his way through thus far had a side door – allowing movement between bays – and a rear fire door, connecting to a separate fire escape corridor.

There was no side door. They had evidently reached the end of the line of equipment bays. So, unless the Britannians one or more of the others behind him, the equipment bays were secure, and he could bring up more troops from the stairwell.

And that, in itself, was a problem. The stairwell led right up into the building, but the Britannians had managed to block it at this level. The only thing they'd been able to access was an access corridor that led under the maintenance tunnel and up into the fire escape corridor behind the equipment bays. It was that very corridor that they had used to assault the equipment bays from behind, only for Britannian soldiers to come swarming out of the cargo elevator and drive them back through the bays.

They must have killed thirty or forty Britannians at least, as they struggled to retake the bays. But he had lost around twice that number in the process; and he doubted the Britannians would just give up. They would be back soon, and perhaps in even greater numbers.

"Sugiyama!"

He looked up. It was Yoshida, with the welcome sight of a dozen men behind him.

"Are the rest of the bays secure?" he asked.

"All clear. We've got fifty more guys, and there's more on their way up. And the phones are fixed as far as Level 2."

Some good news, at last. The service stairwells had landline phones running from top to bottom, but between battle damage and the Britannians cutting the wires as they retreated, they had thus far been unusable. They had comm earpieces, but those couldn't manage any distance; not with the heavy metal and composite plateau segments blocking the signals.

"Send somebody down there. Tell them we're about to attack street level, and we need reinforcements and supplies; plus heavy weapons if they've got any."

"Right."

As Yoshida set about selecting a messenger, Kento tried to think. If they opened the bays' main doors – assuming the Britannians hadn't wrecked the controls – they could swarm straight out and attack the cargo elevator directly. But if that failed, the Britannians could come right back at them, and drive them back into the stairwell. The doors were keeping him hemmed in, but they were also, paradoxically, keeping the Britannians out.

He glared at the bodies of the Britannian soldiers, as his comrades set about looting them of anything remotely useful. As much as he hated Britannia, they had fought well this day; damn well. They were killing two or three for each of their own lost; and his troops were the best the Black Knights and their allies had to offer. He dreaded to think what they were doing to the others elsewhere; the ones not half so well trained, or organised, or equipped.

In the meantime, he had a job to do.

He stepped up to the small door, pressing himself against the wall beside it. The fighters around him noted what he was doing, and ducked behind the equipment racks or the barricade of crates. Slowly, carefully, he peered out.

He could see the cargo elevator; set into the wall on the opposite side of the tunnel. The tunnel itself was wide and tall; big enough for large vehicles or even knightmares to move through it easily.

And he could see Britannians; lots of them. They had used equipment crates and riot barriers to create a series of foxholes; four of them along the middle of the tunnel, facing the equipment bays, and two more behind them, guarding the corners of the tunnel mouths. His heart jumped as he saw two pairs of Knight Police Glasgows, shields forward and guns at the ready, facing away into the darkness,

No wonder they had faced so few in the service stairwell. They had been concentrating their defence here; where it truly mattered.

Kento did a quick count. He could see about forty troopers, arranged evenly between the barricades, plus four knightmares. Against them he had a little over fifty fighters, plus whatever more had arrived in the last minute or so. If he opened the big doors and charged, they could probably overwhelm the infantry; but those four Glasgows would slaughter them in turn. If they tried to slip out via the small doors, the soldiers facing him would have little trouble keeping them contained. And there would doubtless be more knightmares and troopers topside, ready to come down the elevator if needed.

So what to do? If he had some RPGs he could take down the knightmares, and Yoshida had already sent for them. But it could take them a while to reach him; and the longer he waited, the more time the Britannians had to move additional troops into the streets around the civil maintenance building. They _had _to have guessed Zero's intent by now.

He looked at the men and women around him; twenty of them now. They were not all Black Knights, but they were hardened resistance fighters, honed by years of staying alive amid ghetto and forest and mountain, battling nature and their fellow Japanese to survive, and striking at Britannia in any way they could. They were the best of the rebel infantry, the best Zero could throw together from among the ragtag rebel bands and bandit gangs that had answered his call. They had made it this far, but had paid for it in blood.

And now there would be more blood. He had no weapon but them, and no time to wait.

"_Zero…is this what you meant? Is this the only way?"_

He glanced out the doorway again, looking for something he had missed, something he could use.

Nothing.

He sighed. There was truly nothing to be done. He stepped away from the door, and readied himself to command their deaths.

Then he heard an explosion.

He threw himself back against the wall, heart hammering, looking back and forth for attackers; but there were none to be found. Confused, he peered out of the doorway again.

Gunfire was whipping along the tunnel; bright tracer rounds marking its path. The two Glasgows to his right were firing, their 20mm pistols blazing at something racing along the tunnel towards them.

Then one of the Glasgows exploded, and the other two charged past him, racing to the survivor's assistance. Kento looked around, and saw that the infantry had ducked down out of sight, hidden behind their barricades.

Now. Now or never.

"All units!" he bellowed into his comm earpiece. Open the main doors and attack! Knightmares on your left!"

A moment later the big door clunked, and began to rise.

"Two grenades, on my mark!" Kento yelled, pressing himself against the wall between the doors. He waited until the door was more than half up, then swept his hand down. Two fighters drew back their arms, and send their grenades flying towards the barricade. Kento pulled back, and counted down the seconds, until he heard the explosions.

"Now!"

He rounded the corner and ran for the nearest fighting hole. A soldier popped up, levelling his SMG, but Kento caught him with a quick burst. He leapt the barricade and crouched down, snapping his SMG left and right, ready to fire. But there was no one there, just four corpses.

He rose, turning right. The rest of his fighters were moving, swarming over the foxholes, guns blazing. But the two rearmost foxholes were still firing, and Kento saw some of his fighters fall. Further down the tunnel, he saw another Glasgow explode, and shapes emerging from the darkness.

It was the _Guren Nishiki_, its crimson armour gleaming in the sterile white light. Kento watched, awestruck, as it turned on one of the remaining Glasgows and thrust out its clawed hand, grabbing its shield and tearing it aside, before thrusting a golden stiletto blade into the Glasgow's plastron.

Bullets whipped past his head, making his ears sting. Kento cursed and ducked, wondering where the shots had come from.

The other foxhole.

He popped up, firing off a burst towards the left rear foxhole. One of the soldiers within it returned fire, forcing him to duck again. He glanced around, and saw that Kuribayashi had joined him; and was currently reloading her rifle.

Cautiously, he peered out again. There were two soldiers in the foxhole, both of them firing desperately. But behind them he could just make out a third, hefting what looked like a long, black tube onto his shoulder.

He let out a curse.

"Kuribayashi, they've got a LAW!" he yelled, hoping she could hear him over the din of the battle. "I'll distract them! Take him out!"

Before she could reply, he stood up and leapt the barricade. He landed, and ran back the way he had come, firing full auto at the foxhole. One of the riflemen shot back, while the trooper behind him rose up, the LAW on his shoulder, aimed down the tunnel at the _Guren. _Kento fell through the doorway, bullets tearing into the concrete and showering him with dust. He saw a puff of white smoke, and his blood ran cold.

Then the man fell, just as the rocket flew. It slammed into the tunnel wall and exploded, showering the _Guren _and a nearby Burai with dust.

Silence.

After a moment's bewildered pause, Kento pulled himself up, and crept out into the tunnel. His fighters were rising from where they had taken cover, some hurrying to help the wounded. The _Guren _stepped forward, and Kento could see several Gekkas and Burais behind it.

"Kozuki!" he yelled, waving at the red knightmare. "Kallen? Is that you?"

"Hey, Sugiyama!" replied Kallen Kozuki, via his earpiece. "You okay?"

Kento blinked, trying to master himself.

"What are you doing here?" he replied. "Did someone else make it to street level?"

"No, we ran into trouble on our way up the incline, and we had to duck into one of these tunnels further down. We've been clambering up the inside of the plateau ever since. My energy filler's running low."

He blinked again. He had gone strangely…numb, as if a part of his brain had simply shut down. He couldn't feel anything, and he couldn't really think either.

"Hey, Sugiyama," Kallen prompted. "Are you okay to keep going? How many more levels is it?"

"Uh…just the one more." Kento shook his head, trying to master himself. "Just…give us a minute to see to the wounded, and get some more guys up here."

"Okay. That was a great charge, Sugiyama. You totally rolled them up. And thanks for taking out that rocket guy too."

"Uh…it was nothing." A twinge of conscience. "Uh, it was actually Kuribayashi who took out the rocket guy, I think."

"Huh?" Kuribayashi faltered. "Ah, it was nothing!"

Kento couild have sworn she was blushing.

* * *

**(X)**

_**Shinagawa Station, Shinagawa Ghetto**_

The supply depot, if it could be called that, was busy.

It had been busy for the past several hours, ever since the armoured train _Black Thunder _had arrived there, and the Black Knights' logistics division had set themselves up; in the grounds of what had once been major railway station. The site was largely abandoned, the only trains passing through being freight trains between the settlements; the only official use left to Japan's once-mighty railway network. But that was at least plenty of space to work in, and plenty of roads leading away in all directions; making it easy for the supply vehicles – ranging in size from heavy wagons to pickup trucks – to get in and out.

And there had been many of them. The roads running parallel to the tracks had been gridlocked with them; the air a din of honking horns and angry men yelling. But they could do little but wait their turn until someone could get to them, and try to organise them by how much or how little they needed. Streaming them by vehicle size and intended load had sped things up, but it had taken them the better part of an hour just to make it work.

Even then, amid the ultimate battle for the fate of Japan, some people just couldn't or wouldn't read road signs.

Such was only one of many sour thoughts haunting Naomi Inoue's frazzled mind as she glared at her tablet, scrolling down through the inventory. Opposite her stood a heavy-set, sour-faced man in grubby fatigues, waiting with evident impatience.

"I can give you ten crates of 80mm mortar rounds."

"That's it?" snapped the man, losing his temper. "We need fifty or we're gonna run out!"

"Ten crates is all I have left," replied Naomi, forcing herself to speak calmly. "There won't be any more until the next train, and that's…" she checked her watch, "…half an hour at the earliest. Take them or leave them."

The man glowered, then nodded. Naomi pulled a notepad and pen from her breast pocket, marked down the ten crates and her signature, and handed it to him.

"Take it over there!" she pointed towards the area set aside for light ordnance. The man stalked off, and Naomi looked up for the next in line to make her life miserable.

"Ano…"

"What is it!?" She spun round, her resolve weakened by weariness, ready to snap at whoever was bothering her with some stupid question.

Except it wasn't. It was a young girl, holding a mug of steaming tea, and wearing a skittish look.

"Tea?" she offered, holding out the mug.

Naomi let out a long, deep sigh.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Benio-chan, thank you." She took the tea from the girl and glugged down a mouthful; the heat cutting through her weariness and shocking her back to life.

"Lieutenant Kanzaki asked me to bring it to you," Benio Akagi said, smiling a shy smile. "She thought you could use it."

Naomi shot her a smile as she sipped her tea, allowing herself to taste it that time. She had been dubious about the girl at first. She had no useful skills, and wasn't strong enough to lug boxes or heave crates for any length of time. But she was earnest and honest, if not a true believer than at least someone ready to work hard, to help.

"Captain Inoue…"

"You can just call me Inoue," Naomi said, smiling. "I'm not used to that whole rank thing, and you're not a Black Knight just yet."

"Okay, Inoue-san." The girl glanced awkwardly about. "I was wondering…how is the battle going?"

"The battle?" Naomi sighed again. "For the moment, not well, but not bad either."

Then she saw the look Benio was giving her.

"Well…it's not done yet," she said, wondering how to say it without giving her false hope, or making her lose heart too soon. "From what I've heard, the first attack failed, but there'll be another one soon. And Zero shot down all those bombers."

"I saw…" Benio breathed. "I remember them from the invasion, and after. But, seeing them go down like that…"

Naomi knew what she meant. She too remembered those days. The Britannian bombers, big ungainly things with forward-sweeping wings, soaring through the skies above; invincible, unstoppable, or so they had seemed. She remembered how people had cheered to see even one shot down, so terrified and hateful were they of the mere sight of those things.

And Zero had downed twenty-four in one sortie. A legend had been born that night, no matter what else happened.

And it gave her an idea.

"Since we've got a minute," she said, noting that no one else had arisen to torment her since that last guy had stormed off. "Why don't we check on Zero?"

Benio's eyes lit up.

"He's here?"

"This way."

Naomi led the way through the station concourse, the walls covered in decaying, graffiti-ridden posters, faded remembrancers of a lost golden age. On they went, past piles of crates and caskets, past men and women using labour frames, forklift trucks, and their bare hands, to shift loads from the stockpiles to the trucks waiting nearby. On and on, until they moved out of the concourse and into an open area where the tracks divided.

She heard Benio gasp as she saw the _Gawain _kneeling there, while one of Rakshata's technicians worked with CC in the cockpit. Rakshata herself stood nearby, her long pipe in her mouth and a tablet in her free hand.

And there was Zero too. He was using a field telephone, with a long cable running up into the cockpit.

"How's it going here?" Naomi called out cheerfully as they approached. Zero glanced at her, but continued his call; his face unreadable behind his mask.

"Just patching up this poor child," replied Rakshata, in her usual tone. "Zero has been working my adopted son far too hard."

"Without its firepower, we would still be grinding through Yokosuka," retorted Zero, setting the phone back in its slot.

"That doesn't mean you can run my children into the ground," quipped Rakshata; the sour, slightly arrogant look in her eyes ruining her put-on maternal outrage. "I did warn you Zero, this design is completely mad. Trust the Zevons to come up with it."

"Does that mean you can't fix it?" asked Zero, a hint of challenge in his tone.

"I didn't say that," replied Rakshata airily. "Ah, but let's see what Kagari has to say."

The technician was lowering herself down on the ascension cable. She looked young to Naomi, maybe about Benio's age, though she wore a Black Knights jacket and a tool belt around her waist. She had black hair, and her skin was brown; about the same shade as Rakshata's. Was she from India too?

"I've done all I can with them," she said. She spoke Japanese, but with an accent similar to Rakshata's. "But the magnetic coils are half-melted. They just can't handle the heat."

"Will they work?" Zero asked, pointedly.

"Yes, but you're limited to low power shots. Try to dial it up and the coils will melt, and the whole thing could explode. Really they need replacing, but that'll take a while."

"It'll do. Thank you Kagari."

Only then did Zero seem to notice Naomi and Benio.

"Is everything all right, Captain Inoue?"

Naomi cursed inwardly. She had been standing there staring, when there might be work needing doing. And she was putting Benio on the spot too.

"Fine so far, Zero. We're short on a few things though. I've sent the orders back."

"Good. Do the best you can in the meantime."

"Oh, and who have we here?" Rakshata turned her attention to Benio, who blushed.

"This is Benio Akagi," Naomi introduced the girl, who bowed awkwardly. "Kallen recruited her at the SAR."

"She seems a bit young," mused Rakshata. "Then again, that's nothing new. Since we're doing introductions, I am Rakshata Chawla of the Technical and Scientific Department, and this is Kagari Savitri, a bright young thing I recruited in Chandigarh. Oh, and Zero needs no introduction."

"N…nice to meet you!" babbled Benio, bowing again. She looked like she was going to faint.

Naomi glanced at Zero, half expecting him to complain, or come out with some harsh put-down. But if he seemed irritated by the scene, he made no show of it. Behind his mask and purple costume, he was completely unreadable.

"I'm sorry about this, Zero," she said. "But Benio-chan was worried about Kallen. Apparently she went…"

She trailed off as the field telephone beeped, and Zero picked up the handset.

"Zero." He listened for a few moments. "Yes. Excellent. Are you ready to go? Good, see to it. I'll be airborne in a few minutes."

He put down the handset, and turned to them with a flourish.

"Good news everyone!" he declared. "Kallen has made contact. She and Sugiyama have taken the Precinct 5 civil maintenance building, and the cargo elevator is operational."

Benio let out a gasp of delight. Naomi let out a sigh of relief.

"Benio." Zero turned to the girl. "You were worried about Kallen, weren't you." It was a statement, not a question. Benio let out an _eep_, and lowered her eyes, wringing her hands in embarrassment.

"She…she saved me," she whimpered. "She saved me, and she let me come along, even though I'm just a girl, and I can't do anything…"

"I know Kallen will appreciate your feelings," Zero said. His tone was low, and almost kind. "But in the meantime, I need you to do your best for Captain Inoue. The supply trains should arrive soon, and we'll have a lot to do."

"Uh…yes!" Benio declared, mastering herself. "I'll give my all for the Black Knights!"

"So then," Rakshata mused. "The second phase is underway?"

"It will be, in a few moments," replied Zero. "When I give the order, Tohdoh will attack up the incline, and the artillery will provide supporting fire. Also, the second wave with advance under the plateau and up the cargo elevators. Captain Inoue, do your best to keep the supplies coming. Rakshata, take your team and head over to Ougi's position, and make sure you bring all your equipment."

"Oh?" Rakshata cocked an eyebrow. "Expecting a certain someone?"

"Quite likely. When the second wave advances, the command post will go with it, and use the precinct 5 cargo elevator to reach street level. Kallen and Sugiyama should already be there."

"So where are we going?" Rakshata asked, as Zero grabbed the ascension cable and let it carry him up to the cockpit.

"To the command post's new location," Zero called back. "Ashford Academy!"

* * *

**(X)**

**And here it is. This took a lot of doing, but hopefully it's come out well. **

**There were some tricky parts here. I think the fight scene with Tohdoh and Cornelia came out okay, and while Kento Sugiyama's infantry battle took a couple of attempts, I think it finally came up good. Lelouch's air battle scene might be a bit overblown, but IMHO the Gawain is a bit overblown in itself; and it's no worse than the original scene, where he just hovered there blowing away aircraft with his Wave Motion Gun…I mean Hadron Cannons. **

**The single trickiest part was figuring out how the whole attack would work; vis-à-vis the settlement itself. I have to admit that when writing previous versions, I didn't fully understand how the settlement was built. Based on what I've found, it seems like the whole settlement is built on an artificial plateau, made up of layers of square segments held up by columns; the whole structure being flexible enough to cope with earthquakes. The R2 version is even larger and more ambitious, with the rivers and part of Tokyo bay converted into a series of ornamental canals and gardens, with what look like massive solar panels set in the canals; along with a selection of huge towers, of which Black King tower is one. What remains of the ghetto is kept out, in the R2 case, by a tall, thick wall which also keeps the canals in; whereas in R1, people seemed to wander between ghetto and settlement rather easily. **

**The big question for me was **_**how would Zero, or anyone else, actually attack a settlement**_**? The plateau alone, if it could be made to work, would be a challenge for any attacker. I reckoned there would be monorail lines and road overpasses leading in and out, but those could be blocked or destroyed fairly easily. Zero created the incline by having a load of segments collapse, but that's still only one way in. **

**So I took a chance, and added the cargo elevators. These form part of certain support columns, and run from street level – in the civil maintenance building for each precinct – straight down to ground level. In turn, each segment has maintenance tunnels built into it and connected to the cargo elevators; allowing maintenance staff to move easily from segment to segment and carry out inspections and maintenance as needed. It just occurred to me that they'll need some way to move around this structure safely, and that it's going to need a fair bit of maintenance; so it's something plausibly necessary that Zero can take advantage of.**

**In any case, I hope this has all gone down well. Sorry for the long delay. If Chapter Five doesn't run into any problems, it'll be up fairly soon.  
**


End file.
